


August and Everything After

by WitchyWriter



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bisexual Male Character(s), Blood and Injury, Car Roach (The Witcher), Dialogue Heavy, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Sex Work, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trauma, Unrequited Love, kind of, slowish burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:00:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 39,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25024309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchyWriter/pseuds/WitchyWriter
Summary: Geralt is a bouncer at one of New Cintra's most popular hotspots. Jaskier is a hopelessly romantic regular, that through multiple slurred and coherent evenings, is determined to make Geralt like him. Broken down, he finally gives Jaskier a chance and surprisingly, he's not as intolerable as Geralt originally thought.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 43
Kudos: 180





	1. Welcome to New Cintra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I named this story after a Counting Crows album.

A symphony of honking accompanied Geralt on his way to work, a familiar aggressiveness that he felt matched the city quite well. He had lived in New Cintra for just about his entire life and he somehow never seemed to tire of the constant noise, the never-ending movement. He took a deep breath in, the calming odor of gasoline and freshly rained-on asphalt calming him slightly before his undoubtedly interesting evening. 

His job at the bar was only supposed to be a one year thing. A small gap in his life where he could figure himself out and maybe plan out whatever future seemed fitting in the moment. Unfortunately, one year turned into two and then three; now five years later he somehow managed to work at the same pub and fall into a relationship where he saw no real future at all.

Yennefer was a wonderful person and loved him dearly, he could see it in her eyes every time he caught her looking at him. But his inextinguishable desire to keep moving clouded his vision even in the midst of the fieriest passion. Geralt was a mover, a natural nomad in which stillness meant pain and a level of vulnerability he simply didn’t think he possessed. Perhaps he was broken, he often thought to himself. He didn’t dwell on these feelings for long though, dare he uncover something too raw to shove back into place.

Each summer left as quickly as it came, leaving a trail of humid rain and hopes that autumn could mean something different; though life was much of the same these days.

Coming to the front of the pub, he sighed, “I see you haven’t burnt down yet old chap.” He said to the building, it’s ivy-clad bricks almost mocking him with their age. He sighed, “There’s still tomorrow.” Geralt said this nightly to no-one other than the darkened windows, hoping one night that the manifestation would prove true and he would no longer have any obligations, other than to Yen.

The place had seen better days. Thick shards of glass and mashed cigarettes lined its threshold and the unmistakable scent of sweat and regret clung itself to the air. Few people walked out the same way they walked in, sober. The building’s reputation preceded itself as the place silently, but universally, known as the one someone goes to drink until whatever problem they had faded away along with their sense of reality. It wasn’t uncommon for him to have to drag many a men (and the occasional woman) from the counter and out into the semi-sobering air of midnight. It was also equally as uncommon for these events to go down without some air of protest as well. But, with a man as monumental as himself, they seemed to find their way out just fine.

It helped that most people found him to be quite easy on the eyes, which wasn’t lost on him. Unfortunately most were drunk so their validity also came into question, but a compliment was a compliment and as the saying goes, “Drunken thoughts are sober feelings.”

The main focus of these strangers was on his long white hair, which he’d had since a young child and despite numerous doctor’s visits and tests; no one could find a real reason for its color. His siblings had been given locks of ashen blonde or almond brown; he had always had the pleasure of being the white sheep of the family. Geralt stood just a hair shorter than six foot two, with hands big enough to knock even the strongest man flat on his backside. Women, and even some gentlemen, found the latter quite endearing; though he’d never really understood why. His favorite feature, if he had to take notice to one, was his eyes; a honeyed amber in color that flared yellow when he was deeply upset. His mother had always told him that his eyes gave away his emotions, even if he’d never say them himself.

To him however, it didn’t matter much what he looked like. People didn’t come to bars like this to gawk at the bouncer and twirl his hair around their discombobulated fingers. He accepted his place as a white blur in most people’s hazy eyes and sober headaches and rather enjoyed the consistent anonymity.

Renfri, the owner of the bar and one of his only friends, opened the front door and shouted blindly into the growing darkness, “Geralt! Could you help set up inside, we open in twenty.”

“How did you know I was out here?” He took the door and smiled down at her with a furrowed brow.

She turned from him, unimpressed by his looks in numb familiarity, “I don’t know, I could smell the brooding from the backroom; so it could only be one person.” 

He scoffed, “Well that’s not nice.” 

“But you didn’t say I was wrong!” 

Geralt laughed under his breath and took to pulling the stools off the lacquered bar and helping the bar tenders set out their dishes of cherries and peanuts. This wasn’t his job by any means, but he felt obligated being that his real job was just standing around and waiting for a fight. Being the biggest person in the room naturally included doing some of the heavy lifting from time to time.

Slowly, the night’s first patrons began to slink in and take to their usual spots. The man recently divorced, one muttering to himself about money come and gone, another with frown lines permanently scarring his face from work; he’d heard their tales of woe a million nights a year and it saddened him slightly to see them back so often. Though their sorrow and sudden surges of rage kept him employed, so he couldn’t get too sentimental. 

A familiar shrill voice echoed through the room interrupting their silent melancholy, one which made Geralt’s eyes roll to the farthest reaches of his skull. 

“Hello my dear friends, how are we this fine evening? Quite a brisk one out there if I do say so myself- one Blaviken IPA my darling if you please.” Jaskier, a newcomer and a regular all in one, leaned up against the bar and looked around the room as though he missed it. Despite being there the night before, he felt a sense of comfort under the dim lights and silent company.  
No one knew where he came from, or what he did to afford such a consistent habit. All Geralt knew was that he had become one of the pub’s biggest nuisances.

“Foltest! How’s the wife?” Jaskier leaned his arm on the man silently sulking to his left with a glint of genuine curiosity in his big grey eyes. Geralt had seen him a handful of nights, most of them in a row, and this glint never left him. It was an uncomfortable sense of innocence, one which didn’t suit how hammered his small body seemed to get. 

The man scoffed and didn’t turn to face him, “She was gone the last time you asked that asshole.” 

Jaskier thought for a moment, playing back the memories and eventual hangover the night before. Though he genuinely didn’t remember, his voice took on a breath of sympathy as he slowly backed away from the now irritated man. “My apologies mate, there’s plenty of fish in the sea!” He grinned awkwardly and turned away, eyes to the floor.

In truth there were very few things Jaskier could remember from his nights out. This used to worry him considerably, scare him even. But as time went on and his confidence leveled out with his alcohol tolerance, to him, all was well. The night wasn’t complete though until he saw Geralt; be that face to face or led out with a hand to his collar. He fascinated him beyond how appealing he was to look at. There was something underneath his quiet and domineering disposition and he longed to have the chance to figure out what it was. 

Jaskier did not want Geralt to be a white knight of unrecognizably. He wanted to know him quite well and as completely as possible, though he still had yet to learn the simplest things, such as the man's age. 

Geralt, forever alone to only himself, had no desire to be known.

Jaskier made his rounds around the place, beer in hand emptying and being replaced while he made small talk with anyone who would entertain him. That list was short and bordering on non-existent, so sooner than Geralt liked, a now wobbling Jaskier came up under his nose and started to ramble. 

“You’ll never believe this!” Jaskier propped himself up on the dark wood-paneled wall and took to telling Geralt the latest gossip that drifted across his path. However, his words tripped over themselves and it was extremely difficult to find his tongue amongst them. 

Geralt wasn’t listening and wasn’t afraid to show with a plain look on his face how little he cared about whatever the smaller man found so pressing to discuss. Successfully tuning him out, he couldn’t help but notice the look that took over Jaskier’s face when they locked eyes. It almost reminded him of the way Yen looked at him when they watched movies the rare nights they found time to spend together.

Geralt sighed, “Jaskier-“

“So you do speak- and with such a voice! It’s truly a crime to keep it locked away.” Jaskier interrupted, his words slurring slightly and rising and falling with an unnatural pitch. 

He closed his eyes and tried to scrape together whatever patience he could find. He had dealt with many drunks, both of the overly-friendly and raging variety, but Jaskier wrung out of him such a prickling annoyance he wanted nothing more than to be rid of him. “Thank you, now what do you want?”

“Weren’t you listening? You seemed so invested.”

Geralt opened the door to his side, the coolness of the world outside seeping in with a light breeze. “Let’s step outside before you lose a tooth to the floor.”

“No! I’m fine.” He lied, his body slowly inching forward until he was almost fully bent over and facing the floor. Jaskier heard a deep sigh and giggled at the feeling of two big hands prodding under his arms raising him back up to attention, “Don’t you want to take me out to dinner first?” Jaskier laughed into a belch and smiled up at Geralt. 

“Save it for your pillow.” The sound of the door being kicked open made Jaskier jump under Geralt’s firm grip. He was promptly tossed against the nearest wall and Geralt hoped the cold air and bricks would sober him up even the smallest bit so the drunken flattery would end.

Jaskier slid down the wall and comfortably found himself seated amongst half spent cigarettes and weeds making their way between the sidewalk slabs. Geralt watched him sway side to side absently and couldn’t help but chuckle at Jaskier trying his best to stay awake at his feet. 

He looked tired in a way that no amount of sleep could settle. Dark circles and dullness looked as though they knew his eyes well and Jaskier didn’t have to yawn for one to see that he desperately needed to lay down. The warm but painful mix of reds and purples showed through the holes in his jeans and Geralt couldn’t help but wonder how they got there. Not enough to ask, but enough to broaden his mind to what made Jaskier do the things he did. 

The smaller man watched him stare and look him up and down. He was used to the looks of sympathy and unabridged judgement, as he had received both all of his life. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He said weakly, allowing his head to smack a little too hard against the bricks behind him. 

Geralt ignored him and put his hands to his hips in formidable frustration, he didn’t know what to do with him. Jaskier watched his eyes dance across the sidewalk and not meet his own. They’d known one another, to put it loosely, for the last year or so. Not once could Jaskier put to his fluid memory a time Geralt ever looked at him with more than contempt. In his current state, this upset him considerably, despite never giving a reason for Geralt to like him beyond giving him something to do during his shift. 

“Do you hate me?”

“What?” 

“You’re too far away, come here.” Jaskier pointed with a waving finger in a handful of directions, unable to keep his hand steady. 

Geralt rolled his eyes and knelt in front of him, making sure to keep out of reaching distance. “What did you say? I can barely understand you.” He sounded more fed up then he meant to, though he didn’t care enough to adjust his tone.

Jaskier reached out with both hands, attempting and failing to pull the larger man into a hug. Instead, he wrapped his arms around himself. “Do. You. Hate. Me?” The words came out slowly and as though the speaker would fall asleep after each syllable.

There was a beat of hesitation before he answered, as it seemed rude to answer honestly. Geralt opened and closed his mouth several times before he could confidently decided on an answer. He ran his fingers through his hair, growing slightly damp with the increasing humidity. “No, I don’t hate you. But-“ 

“Then why do you look at me like that?” Jaskier lobbed his head to the side in overtly expressed confusion. 

He tried to phrase himself in a way that wouldn’t get him punched, “You’re like a small child loose in a toy store.” Geralt watched the simile fall on deaf ears and pinched the space between his eyes. “You’re loud, easily excitable and annoying as fuck, on the best of days.” 

Jaskier, mildly offended but too tired to make a fuss, huffed and eased himself slowly off the pavement. “Well, then I’ll be annoying at home!” He knew his way back like the back of his hand, as this wasn’t the first nor the last time he’d have to navigate the city six beers deep. 

“I don’t think that’s a good-“ Geralt watched him start walk down the street, using the wall as a guide and singing to himself in a surprisingly decent voice. He turned back to the bar to grab the phone and call a cab, but by the time he returned, Jaskier had disappeared into the maze of street-lamps and car horns.


	2. Cowboy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier's taken up smoking and asks Geralt for a light on a sober night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a shorter chapter, things will start to get a bit more eventful soon!

It was an off night for Jaskier, both in work and in libations. His spirits were up and rather than present himself to the patrons of the bar, loitering outside seemed to be the amount of socialization he could take for tonight. The anxiety which usually was left at the door stayed with him tonight like a shadow, despite the moon leaving no trace of one at his heels. His hands shook like leaves as he brought a cigarette from behind his ear to his lips. Smoking had become another growingly popular and equally unhealthy habit of his. His mother would be very disappointed in him, had she known where he was at all. 

“Fuck.” He muttered to himself, patting his pockets in annoyance. Jaskier looked around and found no one other than Geralt, staring at him with a wary eye and groaning as Jaskier started to approach him. “You wouldn’t happen to have a light would you?” 

Geralt pretended like he didn’t hear him, though he took a silent interest in what Jaskier sounded like sober. His voice had a melodic quality to it, a completely new tone given all he ever heard was his intoxicated laughter and grated whining. Despite his presence being easier on the ears, Geralt still had no desire to talk to him. 

Jaskier placed all of his weight on one of his hips and crossed his arms, “Enough with the stoic bullshit Cowboy, do you have a light or not?” 

“Cowboy?” He didn’t know whether to be confused or offended. Geralt had been called many things both in his life and working the door; but cowboy was never one of them. He couldn’t tell whether he liked it or not, but coming from Jaskier, he didn’t have the patience or desire to figure it out. 

“Ah, do I have your attention now?” Feeling confident despite the nerves, Jaskier moved the cigarette up and down with his lips and held out his hand. “So, lighter?” 

Geralt sighed and dug in his back pocket, pulling out a plain black lighter with a “G” written in silver marker on one side in feminine script. He thrust it into Jaskier’s open hand and looked away; hearing the gentle click and catching the orange haze of the flame from the corner of his eye. A gray cloud of smoke filled the space between them, intensifying the previously unidentifiable smell that radiated from Jaskier’s denim jacket.

“This is a nice lighter, you smoke?” 

“When I feel like it.” 

Jaskier looked him up and down, out of curiosity rather than judgment. “I didn’t see you as the type to do a thing to ruin that body of yours, interesting.” Jaskier studied the lighter for a minute before giving it back, “I also didn’t see you as the type to label your underwear, goes to show you can’t judge a-“

“Is there something I can do for you?” Geralt broke his concentration staring at absolutely nothing and turned only his head to face Jaskier, scowling. It was almost closing time at the bar and he had nothing pressing to do outside of flipping some chairs and helping wash the glasses. This was the only thing of interest that’d happened to him all night, a reality which struck him while he stared at the smoke trail falling from Jaskier’s nose and the inappropriate innocence that coated his eyes. 

“Has anyone ever told you how cute you look when you’re annoyed?” Jaskier flicked his eyes unabashedly up and down Geralt’s face, taking a few trips around his lips and jawline.

Geralt, completely unamused and mildly uncomfortable, scowled harder in return; not letting up his look of stone-faced irritance. He hoped that much like the theory of the T-Rex, if he didn’t move or speak, Jaskier would simply lose interest. 

Though, he quickly realized that this was wishful thinking. 

“Have we gone back to not talking? That really is a shame, I love hearing you berate me.” Jaskier took a few steps closer and leaned against the wall next to him. “This is the closest I’ve been to you sober, I know the temptation to drag me away by the arm must be ravaging you.” He took a long drag of the cigarette before smashing it with the heel of his boot into the sidewalk. “But that would be rather inappropriate now, I appreciate the restraint.”

Geralt glared at him, “Why are your hands shaking? Do you really need a drink that badly?” He could see from his liminal view that his words struck and hurt him. He sighed and turned fully to face him, “I mean-“

“No need to apologize,” Jaskier held up a trembling hand to silence him. “Not only are you right, you cheeky bastard, but your bluntness only makes me like you more. I love a man not afraid to just, say whatever bullshit rolls of his tongue.”

He stopped a laugh before it left his lips and kept his face even and cold. “Oh, good for me.” 

“It is; I don’t like most people I meet.” 

“You’d never guess from the way you parade yourself around in there.” Geralt gestured with his head to the building behind them. The lights had slowly started to go out and the usual bass that shook the walls leveled out to a low tremor. Closing time was slowly approaching and the members of the “last call” crowd fanned out into the various side streets surrounding them, the final drinks wearing most of them down to shuffling silhouettes. It was a quiet night, which usually was a Godsend; but tonight that left him fully available for Jaskier’s pushing and prodding. 

Jaskier chuckled, “I’m the highlight of those sorry bastard’s evenings and you know it. Just like how I’m the highlight of yours. Even if you won’t admit it, I know I’m one of your favorites!”

Geralt rolled his eyes and turned to go back inside. The summer’s humidity was beginning to weigh down his hair and although he didn’t care much about looks, his hair was like the baby he didn’t care to really have. 

With his back turned, suddenly he felt a skinny finger wrap around one of his locks and stroke it affectionately. He froze and whipped around, cringing slightly at the tugging sensation that followed. In a fit rage he came in close to Jaskier’s face, which compared to him, put the smaller man’s forehead at his collar-bone. “And what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Geralt’s eyebrows fell into a deep furrow as a heat began to rise to his cheeks. Flustered and angry, he heard himself growl involuntarily.

He didn’t like being touched, let alone like that. 

Jaskier raised his hands defensively and reached to pull another cigarette from behind his ear. “Your eyes are glowing, cowboy; did I excite you?” He spoke to Geralt as if he were a disgruntled toddler. Jaskier patted his pockets again, looking for a lighter he knew wasn’t there, and looked up to meet Geralt’s canary yellow eyes. “Oh this is embarrassing, you wouldn’t mind would you?” His open hand was quickly smacked away. “Ow, well that’s not very nice.”

“Don’t fucking touch me again, got it?” Geralt leaned in close to his face and spoke through gritted teeth. “You’re lucky I need this job.”

He nodded, “Call me when you don’t.” Jaskier winked and started to walk away, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand in raw nerves; only to spin on his heels and face Geralt again. “One more question, if you’ll entertain me for a moment.” He knew full well how childish he was being, but this was the longest (coherent) conversation he’d had with Geralt since they’d met. He wanted this moment to last as long as possible, even if it meant getting punched square in the face. 

“I’m not and won’t, but that’s never stopped you before.” He crossed his arms and was sure to keep a fair bit of distance between them and any stray hair from creeping over his broad shoulders. 

Jaskier nodded quickly, knowing he only had a few more moments of his undivided attention and gestured for the lighter with his fingers. “Let me see that again, please.” Geralt hesitated for a moment, but dug through his pockets regardless and tossed the lighter haphazardly at him. If helping him light another cigarette meant he’d fuck off, Geralt would do it personally.  
Jaskier studied it for a moment affectionately, tracing his finger gently along the cursive and lighting his cigarette before throwing it back. “Now who’s impeccable penmanship is that? Surely it’s not yours that’s for certain.” He laughed to himself and took a long drag, the smoke coming from his nose like a chimney.

“And why are you so sure that it couldn’t be mine?”

“With those paws of yours?” Jaskier laughed outwardly this time, devolving into a smoke-clad cough. “Give me a fucking break.” 

Geralt thought of how to answer, suddenly remembering the truth that might’ve saved him from this long, sexually tense conversation to begin with. “My girlfriend thought the black was too boring.”

Jaskier’s interest peaked tenfold, “Why didn’t you tell me you had a lover? Is she as striking as I imagine her to be? She has to be, to be with someone as handsome as yourself.” He feigned curiosity to hide the subtle hurt he felt. Knowing someone got to him before he did diminished the minute confidence he could only previously dream of conjuring under the influence of whatever he could get his hands on.

The larger man had heard enough. Truthfully, he really didn’t want to talk about Yen. The reminder that he was in a relationship at all proved to be an irritation which churned within him an uncomfortable guilt that he wished nothing more than to forget. And with Jaskier batting his long eyelashes like a schoolgirl in front of him, he’d hardly feel that sense of omittance standing here. “That’s none of your business, I think it’s best if you find your way home. We’re closed.” Geralt spoke coldly and with finality, turning away with no intention of facing him again.

“It was an innocent question, scouts honor.” Jaskier put a hand to his chest and another raised in the air. Though this didn’t re-capture Geralt’s attention like he hoped. Accepting his silence finally as defeat, which is how he perceived it, he watched Geralt slip back into the building without a second glance in his airspace. He sighed and started to walk in the opposite direction, tossing his cigarette behind him and speaking out to no one, “See you soon, cowboy.”


	3. There, There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After not being seen for almost a week, Jaskier comes to the pub and gets into a hair of trouble.

The weekend trailed off into a menial week, with no sight or sound of Jaskier. By Friday, the entire staff along with the regulars had grown tense; waiting in suspense for the door to bust down with the shrill greeting they had all kindly associated with him. Geralt had reveled in this silence, but as a new weekend slowly started to approach, he hated to admit to himself that he was worried.

It was not until Saturday that they all saw him again, though he did not look like the same man that frequented the pub.

His brown hair had become scraggly and wild, as though he hadn’t brushed or washed it in days. A long, purple bruise ran itself along the back of his neck and he moved like his muscles had gone into atrophy. The only person he spoke to was the bartender to ask politely for his usual in a low, scratchy whisper. Beer now in hand, Jaskier made none of his rounds and instead took to throwing his drink to the back of his throat as if it were water. 

Those too lost within their own melancholic excursions took no notice of him, but those usually at the end of his constant chatter watched in a careful silence; Geralt included. He finished one beer and asked for another, quickly downing that one and asking finally for whiskey, demanding she leave the bottle. Against her better judgement, the bartender felt bad for him and said “just this once”, leaving both him and the alcohol to become acquainted. 

Only one brave soul approached him, the man now divorced named Foltest who Jaskier often took the piss out of. He shuffled closer from a dim corner and purposefully placed a hard hand on Jaskier’s back, making him flinch and groan in pain. “How’s it going over here? You seem like you could use some company.” He sat down at the free stool to his left and ordered a shot. 

“I’d like to drink alone.” Jaskier’s tone was low and bordering on guttural. 

Foltest completely ignored him and grinned, ordering a second shot and pushing it over to Jaskier with a dirty fingertip. “Nonsense. Now here’s to our favorite mistress, booze.” 

Jaskier tipped the shot over with a casual flick and poured himself another glass of the brown liquor, “I said, I’d like to drink alone.” 

Taken aback by the vodka seeping into his sleeves, Foltest stood with a start and began to shout, further gathering Geralt’s attention. “The fuck is your problem?” He once again brought his hand down in a firm grip on Jaskier’s bruise, eliciting a loud yelp. 

Without hesitation, Jaskier finished what was left of his drink and threw the empty glass as hard as he could at Foltest’s head. The rim shattered on his forehead and the base smacked flat on the space between his eyes, cracking and eventually making a deep cut. Jaskier took a swig straight from the bottle and laughed to himself as Foltest writhed in pain on the floor, groaning and holding a weak hand to the gash running from eyebrow to eyebrow. 

Geralt froze in place, as he had already moved from his post at the door when he heard Jaskier cry out in pain, and watched what had enfolded with his mouth agape and eyes wide. Never did he think such a thing was possible. Though he knew under his sickly sweet exterior, Jaskier was hiding something; which he now knew to be a fierce temper.

He shook his head and continued his stride, making it over to the pair in the knick of time. Jaskier had picked up both of the shot glasses and was about to slam them onto Foltest’s already bloodied face. 

“That’s enough of that!” Geralt knocked the glasses from under Jaskier’s white knuckles and grabbed him by the back of his shirt, carefully avoiding the large mark. “Renfri, call this bugger a cab.” He pointed with his free hand to the man rolling over in a pile of glass and groaning at his feet. She nodded from the other side of the bar and quickly disappeared into the back to get the phone and broom. 

Jaskier said nothing and didn’t put up an ounce of resistance while Geralt walked him outside and sat him down on the curb. 

“I’m calling you a cab myself, there’s no way you’re walking home alone.” He pulled his cellphone from his pocket and dialed the number of the car company; only to roll his eyes when he heard that the closest car was twenty minutes away. There was a sound, one which he didn’t recognize. He looked down at Jaskier sitting on the curb with his head between his knees, sniffling. Geralt squatted down next to him and tried, but failed, to catch his eyes. “Are you crying?” 

Before Jaskier could answer, his whole body lurched and he unloaded the contents of his stomach in a sewer grate by his side. When he was done and coughing up a mix of lunch and air, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and turned to face Geralt. He had popped a blood vessel in his forehead and his eyes were rimmed with a mix of tears and dark circles. 

“What does it matter to you?” Jaskier eyes’s started to overflow, though his voice stayed steady and face unmoving. He suppressed his quivering lips to maintain whatever ounce of composure he could to retain his dignity. “Aren’t I, oh how did you put it- annoying as fuck, on the best of days? Is this one of those days?” 

“Shit. You remember that?” Geralt cringed at his own words being given back to him. 

Jaskier nodded and looked out at the street wistfully. The night was quiet, as usual, though if he closed his eyes for long enough, he could hear the brewing summer thunderstorm in the distance. Crickets joined them on the curb along with the occasional honk in the distance; the city skyline squashing the small fireflies that made Jaskier grow dizzy. Streetlamps were their only source of light along with the moon and the approaching headlights of Foltest’s cab. 

The man had been bandaged up, and with a tunnel vision focus on his ride home, didn’t take notice to the two of them sitting just a few feet away. A cloud of exhaust puffed in their faces and made Jaskier keel over into another fit of hacking and heaving his stomach dry. 

Geralt was uncomfortable, both with Jaskier’s crying and vomiting a few inches from him. Awkwardly, he stretched out a hand and patted the middle of his back gently, careful to once again circumvent the bruise. “There, there, let it all out. You’ll feel better by-“ It sounded disingenuous and strange and Geralt didn’t like how the words came out. 

“Shut up.” Jaskier found his tongue in the middle of a breath and stayed hunched over to collect himself. He didn’t want to cry in front of anyone, let alone Geralt. But his face and his brain didn’t seem to find common ground, and he only had seconds to breathe before the tears poured from his eyes. 

They sat in an uncomfortable almost silence for what felt like hours for Geralt. He didn’t know what to do with him besides stiffly pat his back and watch as the tears made a puddle on the street. When Yen cried in front of him, she would lean into a hug or go off on her own to a different room. Never had someone so unashamedly and openly weeped in the open air beside him before. He didn’t know what to do and much less say, so he said nothing and let Jaskier cry - and throw up- until he felt some sense of satisfaction. 

He was still very drunk and very upset, but Jaskier after five minutes of crying coughed and looked at Geralt through bloodshot, slitted eyes. “What are you still doing here?” 

Geralt shifted awkwardly and slowly pulled his hand away, “I can’t leave you here by yourself, you could get hit by a car.” He paused and mentally kicked himself for sounding too concerned. It wasn’t his job to be overly concerned. “You um, could also start a fight with someone else and then we’d have to call the cops. And that’s a lot of paperwork I’m really not in the mood to do.” 

Jaskier scoffed, tasting the lie and absently playing with his torn cuticles. “Right.” His mind shifted to a dark place, a place he drank to avoid traveling to. Tonight, he hadn’t had enough to completely forget, so instead he was forced to remember. “I’m sorry that I’m such a burden to you. To Renfri. To everyone in there.” He pointed weakly to the building behind them. “I know what you all think about me when I’m gone, hell even when I’m there. You’re all pretty shit liars, I can read your faces like a fucking drink menu.” Jaskier laughed under his breath, daring Geralt to do the same.

“You’re not a burden.” 

“Then what the fuck am I?” 

He didn’t know what to say to that, any half-assed proverb he could come up with on the fly would prove to be more disingenuous than helpful. So he said nothing and watched Jaskier watch him, neither saying much of anything.

Geralt looked down at his watch and sighed as he realized only ten minutes had gone by. 

Eager to change the subject and move away from his vulnerability and squandering liquid courage, Jaskier crossed his legs at the knee and flashed a proud smile. “So, from your experience, on a scale of one to ten, how well did I handle myself back there? I could really use some tips for the future.” 

Geralt was caught off guard by the sudden shift in demeanor but rolled with it anyway, anything to keep him from becoming a blubbering mess again. “Judging by your back, you’re going to need a little bit more than my help.” He leaned back to try and get a better look at the purple mass dwelling under his almost sheer shirt. Jaskier shifted and faced him fully, eliminating the opportunity. “What happened to you anyway?” 

“Nothing. I fell, you know how I am when I’ve had one too many.” Jaskier’s back tensed up at the reminder of the bruise, laughing awkwardly to try and move the conversation along. “So, one to ten?” 

“Solid six.” He watched Jaskier’s face light up in feigned offense and caught himself before he let out a laugh. “Hey- let me finish! He didn’t hit you first, so it was a bit unethical. However, it was a solid slam with the glass. Your form could use a little work though.” 

Jaskier watched him talk, but wasn’t listening. He was sober enough to remember this more than most conversations previously and wanted to capture it completely. The way his hair looked, bright and annoyingly perfect as usual; and the new look in his eyes that Jaskier had yet to fully identify.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Hm?” 

“Don’t bullshit me Jaskier.” 

He sighed, knowing the truth would surely get him scolded, though he didn’t care all the same. “I know I’ve said this before, but you’re quite pretty. Don’t sigh at me like that! Why do you get so uncomfortable when I say that to you?” 

“Because it’s coming from you.” His voice was flat and annoyed. For a moment he had honestly thought Jaskier’s brain could move farther than the gutter. Dare he say, hopeful. 

Jaskier laughed a little too loud and grabbed his stomach, pausing to see if it would allow him to speak. “Is it because I’m a man? You really have to grow up a little, it’s the twenty-first century for Gods sake!” 

“No. It’s because you’re _you _.”__

__His meaning took longer to process that usual, but Geralt could see where the wires connected by the look of subtle disappointment that flashed across his eyes. “Oh.” He uncrossed his legs and leaned away, offended but not surprised. “Just when I thought we were becoming friends too.”_ _

__Before Geralt could clean up what he said or add a sarcastic retort, a car pulled up to them with the passengers side window rolled down. “I’m here for a- Jasper?”_ _

__“It’s Jaskier!” He yelled from his spot on the curb, carefully picking himself up and trying his hardest not to throw up with the newfound balance._ _

__Geralt opened the back door for him and pushed his head down so he didn’t smack it on the top of the car. Taking one last look around to make sure he didn’t drop anything or lose a finger, he turned to walk away._ _

__“Geralt!”_ _

__He groaned and turned around on his heel, “What now?”_ _

__Jaskier put his chin to the base of the open window and grinned, it reached his eyes and their red-rims had finally faded to a tired purple. “Your lady friend is lucky to have you, tell her that for me would you?”_ _

__“Fine, whatever you say. Get home in one piece, alright?”_ _

__He gasped dramatically, “Do my ears deceive me? Is this Geralt being nice to me…on purpose?”_ _

__The driver, annoyed with Jaskier already, pulled away from the curb as he gave the royal wave from the back window. Geralt watched the car’s taillights fade into the maze of bright neon signs and shuttered as he felt himself almost miss him._ _


	4. Humor Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grateful for not being left to wander home, Jaskier gives Geralt an offer he can sort of refuse.

Jaskier had never seen the place in broad daylight before, in fact, he had purposefully avoided it. There was something about being here where others outside of his usual audience could see him that he found embarrassing. There was nothing about him, both in profession and personally, that people of the nine to five would understand; let alone accept. But, he hadn’t rolled out of bed at the crisp early hour of 6:30 P.M. to hark on his demons. Rather, to talk to the only person who could lay them to rest for as long as Jaskier could hold his attention.

He grabbed onto the doorknob with a wary hand, now in actual nerves rather than withdrawal, and took a deep breath. Talking to the man made him more nervous that working the graveyard shift. 

“Geralt! It’s funny seeing you here.” The air of false confidence coated him like honey as he smiled and stood in the doorway dramatically. He was the only one here, as it was far too early in the day for anyone to be pity drinking on a Thursday evening. Those souls waited for the weekend to get blasted and have no boss to make them face the consequences until their alarm went off for work.

The larger man was sweeping the floor with a gray bandana tied around his forehead and his snow-white hair piled on top of his head in a loose bun. Before Jaskier walked in, he was having a perfectly fine evening. Renfri closed the bar after lunch so he could do some handy-work, meaning he had the whole place to himself until sunset. He thrived in such solitude, which came fewer and farther between these days than he would care it to. Perhaps he danced and hummed to himself when things got too quiet, and maybe he did talk to himself now and then. But didn’t everyone?

He threw his head back and closed his eyes, remembering now what had been gnawing at him all day; he forgot to lock the door. Jaskier to him was even more intolerable sober and Geralt got away with saying far less. “What could you possibly want? I thought I was free of you until sundown.”

Jaskier pulled a chair off of the closest table and sat on it backwards, leaning his hands and chin on the backrest. “I’m not a bloody vampire.” He laughed to himself at the accidental pun and continued. “I just wanted to drop by and express my gratitude.”

Geralt snorted, “For what?” 

“Well for one, I’m pretty sure I would’ve gotten arrested yesterday had you not dragged me outside. And for another, I most certainly would have gotten run over if you let me walk home. So thank you for not letting me die.”

“You don’t think that’s a bit… dramatic?” Geralt cocked an eyebrow and turned away from him, irritated at his being here and uncomfortable at being paid trivial gratitude. “There’s no thanks involved in me doing my job. They pay me to make sure people don’t die, if anything I should be thanking you.” He regretted it as soon as he said it and winced mid-sweep, turning around slowly only to see what he feared: Jaskier’s shit-eating grin. 

He batted his eyelashes and gestured for him to continue with a dramatic flick of his wrist, “Oh don’t stop now, I like where this is going.”

“Fuck off.”

“Well I don’t like that.”

Geralt sighed and and flailed his arms like a child, the broom nearing a projectile rather than a cleaning tool. “No, really, fuck off; we’re closed.” He knew he wouldn’t listen to him but still turned away, hoping that he’d hear the door close and his solitude would continue.

Jaskier stayed seated and watched him in silence. He knew that this was another rare opportunity; rather than being the one studied, it was Jaskier’s turn to study him. He longed for nothing more than to reach out and touch him; though he knew doing anything of the sort would surely be the end of whatever it was between them. Instead, he continued his prodding, “You’re very tense, why is that?” 

He winced at the sudden sound of his voice, but didn’t give him the satisfaction of eye contact. “Dealing with people like you everyday isn’t a relaxing task.” Geralt continued to sweep at nothing, anything to keep his hands busy and focus on something other than Jaskier’s presence. 

“You seem to handle me just fine.” 

“You seem to like being handled.” Geralt stopped sweeping and looked at him, catching the faintest appearance of a blush just as Jaskier put his hands on his face. He dropped his voice to a deeper register, “Do you save you bad behavior just for me?” He knew full well what he was doing as he said this, it was a trick that worked on the rowdy female patrons of the bar time and time again. However, he refused to admit that he quite liked seeing Jaskier squirm in his seat. 

Jaskier didn’t know how to respond, but his jaw did that for him; a whispered stammer falling from his lips and a quick series of blinks causing a mild wind current. “I- well no. It’s just- you really catch me at the worst of times if I’m being honest.” He tapped his wrist covertly to check his pulse and flushed under Geralt’s harsh gaze. 

“So did you come all the way from wherever the fuck you live just to thank me?” Without looking away from his face, Geralt leant the broom on the bar and took down another chair, sitting in front of him backwards and leaning his chin on his fist. “Or was there something you needed?” 

Jaskier broke eye contact first to fumble around in his pockets, a symphony of “um” and “well” filling the uncomfortably tense gap between them. After what felt like forever, he retrieved a small scrap of paper folded neatly in half. “This is for you!” He watched nervously as Geralt hesitantly took it from him and unfolded it slowly. 

He sighed, “Is this your phone number?” 

“Now before you- don’t roll your eyes at me! Now before you throw it out, I have a proposition for you.” Jaskier opened his hands and begged with a gentle tilt of his head to be heard out. “Humor me, please.”

Feeling far too generous and overwhelmingly curious, Geralt pinched his nose bridge and sighed again, “Fine, quickly.” 

Sensing that his time was running out, Jaskier wasted no time and clapped his hands in excitement. “As a thanks for preventing me from ending up Gods know where, I want to take you out for to eat; wherever you want, money isn’t an object. Now you don’t have to immediately say yes-“

“I wasn’t.” 

“Let me finish!” 

Geralt stifled a chuckle, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please, carry on.” 

“Thank you! As I was saying, you don’t have to say yes right now. But, if you decided you hate me less, call me on your next night off…if those exist.” Jaskier watched his face furrow and trailed off, growing nervous for an outright rejection. Rather than be turned down to his face, as that would be too much to bear, he stood up and put the chair back where he found it and started in the direction of the door before Geralt could say anything. He slipped back on his false confidence like a glove and stopped in the threshold, dramatically turning around and waving goodbye, “Don’t keep me waiting Cowboy.” And he was gone. 

Geralt sat there for a minute, in confusion about the last five minutes, but mainly in respect for how bold Jaskier had been; and sober at that. Most people didn’t approach him on purpose and even less did so with their phone numbers in tow. He liked it that way, the less talking he had to do at the end of the day, the better, Though, as he put his chair back on the table and went back to his chores, he couldn’t help but simmer on the idea of accepting his offer.

In fact, he spent the rest of his solitude and almost the entirety of his shift thinking about their conversation and weighing the pros, and overwhelming cons, of going on a date with him. It had begun to overwhelm him and it wasn’t long until Renfri had taken notice to him brooding more than usual in his corner of the room. 

She walked up to him and bent down, attempting to catch his eyes so intently placed on the floor in front of him. She waved, “Hey, what’s going on over here? Is the wood giving you a hard time?” 

“What?” 

Renfri sighed, “You never did take sarcasm well. Alright, what’s the problem? This is the hardest I’ve seen you think…ever.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” He coughed into his elbow and looked around, trying his best to look like he was doing something of pressing importance. 

“Don’t bullshit me Geralt, I’ve known you too long for you to try and pull that nonchalant crap with me.” She crossed her arms and scowled, cementing herself in front of him with no intention of leaving until he talked. “Spill it.”

She was right and he knew it; they had virtually grown up together and had the relationship of the closest siblings. A relationship that Geralt could only dream of recreating with his actual kin. He closed his eyes, sheepish at what he was about to say, “Jaskier gave me his phone number, he wants to take me out for calling him a car yesterday.” He expected some laughter, maybe a gasp at the worst; but there was nothing. When he opened his eyes, Renfri was standing there, mildly unimpressed. 

“That’s it?” 

He widened his eyes and tried his best to keep his voice down, “It’s Jaskier!” 

“So? He’s a nice guy, even when he’s laying on the floor asking for a blanket.” Renfri punched his shoulder lightly, “Relax! Let the nice man take you out for a bite. I mean, as long as Yen’s ok with it, I don’t see any reason why not. Free food is free food.” She watched Geralt not meet her eyes and her own turned into slits. “You did tell Yen right?” 

“I-“ 

She slapped his arm again, harder this time, “Geralt!” 

He put his arms up defensively, he hadn’t even thought of calling Yennefer to ask for her opinion. From an outsider perspective, this would look like cheating; which he now knew and subsequently felt bad for. “I’m sorry!” 

“It’s not me you’d have to be saying sorry to, I say go for it. But call your fucking girlfriend first, Jesus.” She gave him one last look over and shook her head smiling as she walked away. “Idiot.”

Renfri emboldened him slightly, reminding him that no one ever called this a date; it was simply a thank you, nothing more and nothing less. The clock on his phone read 2 A.M. when he pulled it from his pocket, his fingers hovering over the screen before swallowing and typing in the number given to him on the scrap of paper. 

“I’ll tell her when I get home.” He whispered to himself while the phone rang against his ear. 

In three shorts rings, a groggy voice came from the other end, he had clearly caught Jaskier in the middle of whatever he called a sleep schedule. “H- hello?” He yawned loudly, making Geralt move the phone away from his ear. 

He spoke quickly before he could overthink again and hang up, “I don’t work Monday’s, does tomorrow at noon work for you?” 

Jaskier recognized the deep voice immediately and shot out of bed, now standing in his small bedroom and pacing back and forth. “Um- yeah that works just fine. I didn’t think you’d call so soon, good to know you’re not completely spent of manners.”

“Don’t push it.”

“Right, right. So it’s a date, see you tomorrow.” Jaskier hung up and squealed and found himself too excited to fall back asleep. 

Geralt slid his phone back into his pocket and stared wide-eyed at his favorite spot on the floor, replaying Jaskier’s words in his head on loop: _“It’s a date.”_

__“Fuck.”_ _


	5. It's Not a Date...I Think

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Jaskier go out for lunch, though it's not what either really had in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put three show/game puns in this chapter...I'd love to hear how corny you guys think they are when you find them.
> 
> Also! This is the longest chapter so far so I'd also love to hear what some thoughts/feelings are, shit gets a little messy from here!

“Are you sure this guy doesn’t have a thing for you or something?” Yennefer stood in the bathroom doorway and watched Geralt brush his hair with her arms crossed. “Because if he is, I don’t know how I feel about you going on a lunch date with him. This is the one day a week we _see _eachother, it’d be nice to actually _see _you.”____

____Geralt slammed the brush down on the vanity and looked at her through the mirror, “For the third time, it’s not a date!” This conversation had been going on since about four in the morning. Jaskier texted him his address soon after he got home from work and of course, Yen had gotten to the phone before he could. Not only was she suspicious, but incredibly belligerent and quick to make assumptions that Geralt simply didn’t have the vocabulary to fight against._ _ _ _

____He had hoped that she would get over it by the time he woke up. But that hope was quickly stomped out by her yelling the second he got out of bed._ _ _ _

____She repeated herself again, this time with a more pointed tone and visible irritation,“So he does have a thing for you?” He had yet to answer this question each time she asked it. The truth would surely send her into a rage and he was far too worn down to try and explain the circumstances._ _ _ _

____Geralt turned around and met her at the doorframe, putting his hands on her hips and rubbing gently as an act of small reassurance despite his own fading patience. “Probably, I don’t know- I really try not to think about it.” Before she could jump on him with another worry or sarcastic comment, he kissed her to squash any insecurity. “Don’t worry, I think I have an idea.”_ _ _ _

____“You? An idea?” Yen finally relaxed and uncrossed her arms, the smallest smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Who are you and what have you done with Geralt?”_ _ _ _

____“I’m not taking him to some candlelit bullshit, we’re two guys getting a beer and watching a game; that’s it.” He smiled and tried to kiss her again, but he couldn’t make his body move._ _ _ _

____Yen chuckled at the idea he found to be so clever, it seemed stupid to her but at the same time relieving; imaging her boyfriend having anything more with a stranger made her blood boil. “Alright, as long as you bring me leftovers.”_ _ _ _

____He watched her saunter into the next room and let out a breath that had unknowingly started to suffocate him. There was a pain in his chest when he realized that he felt nothing when he kissed her. This had begun happening more and more in recent weeks, this absence where something used to be. He looked frantically around the bathroom for a distraction to this sudden rise of emotion and brushed his teeth until he spit blood._ _ _ _

____Noon came faster than he would have liked it to and he left with a silent wave in Yen’s general direction; slipping from of the front door of their shared apartment and onto the city street._ _ _ _

____Summer had reached its peak, August would soon fade from the calendar as quickly as it began. Tourists found their way nearly everywhere like ants, parties lasted all through the night and children danced in the sprinklers of business complexes. Festivals lined the streets until the sun went down; if you tilted your nose to the air, there seemed to be a never-ending stream of fireworks and a permanent smell of a lit barbecue._ _ _ _

____Geralt never cared for the social occasions and no matter the time of year, life was the same for him. Whether he put on a t-shirt or a jacket was determined by what he felt when he stuck his arm out of his bedroom window. Nothing more, nothing less._ _ _ _

____His car was a hand-me-down from his oldest brother, a beat-up Impala he affectionally called “Roach” that only ran on anything over a half tank of gas. Yen and Renfri had told him, almost begged him, to get it fixed or replaced but he just couldn’t part with it. Over the years, the car had become Geralt’s baby, his hair coming in at a close second in terms of prized possessions._ _ _ _

____Metallica blared out of the speakers when he turned the key in the ignition and second-guessed himself for the last time as he clicked his seatbelt. “It’s just Jaskier. It’s just lunch. Chill the fuck out.” He whispered quietly as he pulled away from the curb and drove towards the address he had punched in the GPS that morning. He spent most of the drive wondering why he was so nervous to begin with. The entire idea that such an annoying individual could wind him up this much made him laugh out loud._ _ _ _

____It wasn’t long until Geralt arrived in front of Jaskier’s house, his eyes going wide after checking the GPS three times over to make sure he was at the right address. It was nice by their city’s standards; a standalone house with no neighbors to share the front lawn with and his own driveway. That alone impressed him, the yellow front door and garden gnomes meant less, though he had to admit that it suited Jaskier quite well. Geralt honked the horn twice and tapped to the drum solo on the steering wheel while he waited for what was undoubtedly going to be a dramatic entrance._ _ _ _

____Inside, Jaskier heard the car horn and shot up. He was awake, but rifling through a mountain of clean laundry on his bed trying to find the right thing to wear. Originally, he had on a green short-sleeved button up shirt with guitars on it; but a losing battle with the toothpaste put that straight in the dirty pile._ _ _ _

____“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Throwing shirt after shirt, and the occasional questionable pair of underwear, over his shoulder until eventually he reached the bottom of the pile and groaned. “You’ll have to do, old friend.” He whispered, holding up Madonna t-shirt he hadn’t worn since his senior year of high school. Without no time to to dig through the semi-dirty stack, he tugged it over his head on his way through the house, nearly forgetting his wallet and keys on the way out._ _ _ _

____Geralt watched Jaskier fumble on the front steps, catching him squint at the car to see who it was, immediately smile and stop just as quickly to turn and lock the door. “This ‘ought to be fun.” He said to himself with a pleasant smile, leaning across the center console and opening the door with a grunt, “I was getting worried that I had the wrong place for a minute.” He paused and looked Jaskier up and down when he stetted himself, “Um- nice shirt.”_ _ _ _

____He looked at himself and laughed nervously, “Oh? This old thing? Just something I threw on really.”_ _ _ _

____Geralt fumbled with the CD’s he had carefully organized in a small book under his seat, “I think my girlfriend has her greatest hits somewhere in here-“_ _ _ _

____“Oh don’t fuss about that, this is…fine.” He trailed off and listened to the thrashing guitar and bass that shook the interior of the car. Truthfully, he hated it and wanted nothing more than to turn it down. Nevertheless, Jaskier perked up again, his heart set on making this a great afternoon. “So, where were you thinking of eating? I’m starved.”_ _ _ _

____“It’s a surprise.” Geralt tried, but failed, to match Jaskier’s unwavering optimism. His voice instead conveyed itself like a forced smile and he shook his head as he cringed at the sound._ _ _ _

____The drive went relatively wordless, though Jaskier tried his best to make small talk. He accepted that no matter the circumstance, Geralt just wasn’t the talking type and tried to enjoy their close proximity regardless. By the time they pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot, he had even begun to tap his foot to the music coming through the speakers._ _ _ _

____“White Wolf Wings?” Jaskier let himself out of the car and stared at the sign, hands on his hips. “I pinned you as more of a steak type, but alright.” He muttered under his breath. “_ _ _ _

____Geralt, without looking back, started towards the restaurant and grunted, “Something wrong?”_ _ _ _

____Determined to make it work, Jaskier shook his head and walked ahead of him to open the door, “Nothing at all, after you sir.” He could see Geralt was expecting him to protest or at the very least whine, as he hesitated for a beat before walking into the restaurant._ _ _ _

____It was loud, too loud. This place was not the quiet and mildly depressing pub Jaskier and Geralt had become so aquatinted with. The first thing each noticed was the sheer amount of people that seemed to fit inside on a Monday afternoon. Men with cheap beers clutched in their fists shouting at TV’s and one another was the permeating sound, but if Jaskier’s strained just enough he could hear whispers of music playing from the ceiling. Both were terribly out of their element, but only one was pleased with what he figured to be the first and last time he’d ever be here._ _ _ _

____“Just the two of you?” A small blonde waitress stood in front of them with a company ordered smile plastered across her face._ _ _ _

____“Um, yeah.” Geralt realized that he spoke in a voice too deep and too low for the surrounding noise, so he resorted to his preferred communication: a series of nods and hand gestures._ _ _ _

____They followed her as close as they could through the maze of people and tables until they were led to a corner booth somewhat away from the noise; though the yelling was seemingly inescapable. This made Jaskier more uncomfortable than anything and he found himself naturally tense whenever another person decided to shout at nothing._ _ _ _

____Flicking through their menus, neither spoke until the waitress came back with her smile as an almost separate entity and a pad of paper. “Alright, so what’ll you gentlemen be having today?”_ _ _ _

____Jaskier cleared his throat and went first, unknowingly interrupting Geralt who sat with his mouth partially open. “I’ll have the Ciri special with an iced tea, Geralt?”_ _ _ _

____“Um- I’ll have what he’s having, and a pint of whatever kind of stout you have back there.” He handed the menu’s back to the waitress and smiled, ignoring the way she watched him as most women did and looked back to Jaskier. “I’m surprised you’re not going to join me and have a drink.”_ _ _ _

____He shuffled uncomfortably in his seat as the room erupted in a roar at whatever sporting event played on the main TV. “I didn’t want you to think about work on your day off.” He looked around the room and furrowed his eyebrows, “Which is why I’m a little surprised you wanted to come here, it reminds me a lot of Renfri’s place.”_ _ _ _

____The waitress rounded the corner with their drinks in hand, causing Geralt to rub his hands together in a rather dramatic fashion. “I can’t drink a pint at Renfri’s place, that’s the difference.” He took a long, deep sip of the beer and savored the taste like it was his very first. Typically, he really wasn’t a drinker. It seemed contradictory to his profession and he was a big man; usually by the time he realized he was drunk, he’d be almost done with the case and something would be broken in two._ _ _ _

____Jaskier watched him with an uncomfortable intensity, almost trying to experience what Geralt was tasting as covertly as he could. He really could use a drink. But, he’d promised himself he’d try and be less drunk less often; though the reality of that lasting long was slim._ _ _ _

____Their food came soon after, the waitress bearing two heaping platters of chicken wings and blue cheese sauce. Jaskier blinked in rapid succession, whilst Geralt wasted no time inhaling the food the second it was put in front of him. He took a small sip of his drink, watching in slight horror at just how fast Geralt could eat._ _ _ _

____“No wonder you’re such a big lad, you eat like a goddamned bear.” Jaskier snorted, half expecting it to fall of deaf ears and choking on a bite of food when Geralt looked up at him._ _ _ _

____His cheeks were puffed out like a squirrel, his eyes inadvertently resembling a deer. “What?”_ _ _ _

____Jaskier sighed, taking in the sight that although was a little off-putting, still made him swoon like a teenager. “Nothing, I just said that I’m glad you seem to be enjoying yourself.” Geralt nodded and quickly went back to eating, moreso back to consuming, the pile of food in front of him._ _ _ _

____Almost his complete antithesis, Jaskier took to nibbling and dabbing his mouth with a napkin every chance he got. It wasn’t that he didn’t have an appetite, but that he was afraid of devolving into a similar pattern of mindlessly eating like a wildebeest. The combination of noise and attractive company pushed him into a corner of shakily eating the chilling food in front of him._ _ _ _

____“Are you alright?” Geralt had wiped his hands clean of the orange sauce and stopped for a moment to take another long sip of his beer. “You look cold.” His face had scrunched up in concern as he watched Jaskier eat like he was afraid of the chicken. He leaned in close, “It won’t bite back, scout’s honor.”_ _ _ _

____They both laughed lightly, making Jaskier more laid back and to start to eat comfortably, despite now being watched by a curious Geralt. It brought back memories of his first few dates with Yennefer and the way she was worried about eating in front of him; afraid that she’d scare him off with an insecurity he still didn’t fully understand. The uncanny likeness made him choke on his beer and fall into a pit of coughing and wheezing._ _ _ _

____“Mate, the plate’s not going anywhere.” Jaskier cleaned his hands on his napkin and watched Geralt smack his chest like a gorilla and suppress a laugh at the absurdity of both the memory and moment. “You’ve got something over here.” Jaskier wiped his thumb on the corner of his own mouth._ _ _ _

____“Here?”_ _ _ _

____“No, little to the left.”_ _ _ _

____“Have I got it?”_ _ _ _

____“Nope.”_ _ _ _

____“Now?”_ _ _ _

____“Oh for fucks sake, come here.” He leaned across the table and got Geralt with the corner of his napkin before he could protest or lean away. The larger man sucked in a sharp breath and watched with a close eye, wary of their closeness but not minding all the same. He noticed now the ring of ocean blue that encircled Jaskier’s pupils, setting itself apart from the rainy gray he only could see from a distance._ _ _ _

____The spot was gone, but Jaskier lingered for a moment longer. Never had they been so close before without one of them being drunk or irritated. They made eye-contact, perhaps seeing one another as an individual for the first tine. With the locking of their eyes, the present came back to them in the roar of another sports win and they leaned back at the same time, coughing and clearing their throats to tear away the moment before it became too real._ _ _ _

____Geralt couldn’t find his appetite and his glass soon ran empty. In a series of wordless glances and quiet chewing, the meal had come to a close and the waitress slid the check across the table with another disconcerting grin._ _ _ _

____“I could tip if you-“ Geralt started to pull his wallet from his back pocket and open his hand for the check._ _ _ _

____Jaskier batted the extended hand away, taking out his credit card and closing the check without a second glance, “Nonsense.” He leaned back against the booth and smiled, “I mean if you wanted to take me out for lunch next time I suppose-“_ _ _ _

____“Don’t push it.”_ _ _ _

____“Right.”_ _ _ _

____Their was a staleness in the air, one which followed them through their leave from the table and back out to the parking lot. Geralt got the car door for Jaskier without thinking and changed out the Metallica CD for a fairly neutral radio station. One which he found himself liking and making a mental note to tune into more often._ _ _ _

____No one felt the need to speak on the drive back the way they came. All that needed to be said was conveyed in their moment of eye contact; a conversation that neither understood fully and wished to leave at the table where it transpired._ _ _ _

____Pulling up to Jaskier’s house, they realized that they hadn’t thought much about how they planned on saying goodbye. A handshake seeming too formal, but a hug being an infringement on whatever boundaries they still latched onto._ ___

___“Do I give him a fucking high-five? Maybe a wave when I get out? No, what am I, twelve?” _Jaskier thought to himself as Geralt put the car in park and stared straight ahead, his brain going through hoops to figure out much of the same thing.__ _ _

______“This was-“ They started to speak at the same time and laughed to cloak their nerves._ _ _ _ _ _

______Geralt spoke first, “Thanks for taking me out, no one’s ever done that for me before.” He kept one hand on the steering wheel and another on the gear shift, not really knowing where else to put them._ _ _ _ _ _

______Without much thought, Jaskier blurted out, “Glad to be your first then,” The words only sat for an agonizing second before a flurry of others came out to cover their former, “It was a really nice place- great iced tea, I’m surprised I’d never been there before.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yeah, we should go again sometime.” He had only said it to be polite, but surprised himself with the truthfulness and lack of sugarcoating._ _ _ _ _ _

______Jaskier perked up, “Really? I mean - yeah, that’d be cool.” He opened the door and got out before he could say something else he’d be left to think about with cringing regret later on tonight. “I’ll see you soon.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I don’t doubt it.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Fuck off.” Jaskier rolled his eyes as he turned away, waving from the front porch and going inside behind the yellow painted wood._ _ _ _ _ _

______Geralt let out a deep breath and closed his eyes, putting his forehead to the steering wheel. “That was a date wasn’t it?” He asked to no one but himself, the answer coming soon after but not spoken aloud. The next question being why he didn’t seem to mind._ _ _ _ _ _


	6. Man of Many Colors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Jaskier chapter, as a treat. Plus, another step forward in their tentative relationship.

He drank in his spare time the nights a week he couldn’t face the world and catch the stares of strangers who knew who he was and where he’d been. He hated these nights more than any other; the depressing and inescapable reality that he was in fact alone ate him inside. At least at the bar, he could pretend that he wasn’t drinking by himself.

He hadn’t recognized the face staring back at him in the mirror for over a year. The eyes that once lit up when he laughed now sat flat and glazed-over. A once controlled and occasional habit had now consumed his waking hours and made a mockery of his substantial, but illy-achieved, income. 

Jaskier hated his job, detested it. He wished that he had stumbled into a different club on a different night. Wished that he never walked his first street or made his first hundred dollars. It had become addictive, the rush of feeling desired and his wallet once bone dry, now flooded with what seemed to be a never-ending stream of cash. 

The price? The body that once only belonged to him. A peace of mind he had taken for granted. 

Once he had dreamed of being a musician, a guitar player in a band which one day would break up and he’d go out and make it on his own. He’d always loved crowds of people, the roar of applause; he had hope that maybe one day he’d make a difference to someone who’d been a nobody just like him.

That was lost to him now, a childhood dream at its essence too far away from his reality to ever be anything more. Now he was only a body, a thing to bruise, a secret to hide. 

As his past became a suggestion and the future a question mark, Jaskier still somehow found himself amongst the crowd. It may be filled of those just as hammered as himself, but they were the closest thing he had to friends. So he performs for them, asks them how their day is and whether it’s a shoulder to water with tears or a shoe to spit on; Jaskier presented himself to them with open arms. At times he regretted this naivety and childish optimism, but he had no one else to give it to. 

The world he had begun to call home was nothing short of abandoned parking lots and blanketed backseats. Men (and some women, though they were less common) came and went along with their declarations of love for him and the sparkling gold of their wedding rings. Those that picked him up in leather seats with big watches paid the best- but hurt the most. Forever a glutton for punishment, they were the types that paid his rent but made him question if it was really worth it in the end at all. 

His skin acted as a canvas for them. Painting him in pinks that faded with time to beautiful shades of purple and yellow. Only when they left him where they found him amongst the dumpsters and rats, he felt everything but beautiful. Jaskier lived in the land of misfit toys on an island all his own with no real sense of direction or desire to become anything more than a castaway. This life, this pit- was the only life he had truly gotten to know. To leave and risk the life he had built during the day was enough to put him back into the shadows as the one to be hidden rather than the one to be exposed. And he preferred it that way. 

Very little worried or surprised him anymore, as almost everything that could happen to a person in his line of work had happened to him. However, those that liked their fingers wrapped around his throat like the handle of a baseball bat were his least favorite. The line between their euphoria and his demise was always danced upon; the music fading out sooner and sooner with each finger. His windpipe the final note. 

Tonight had hurt, badly.

It was another night to drink himself silently into an oblivion of fonder memories, one which he intended on diving into with each step he took. The pub came into his cloudy view, the neon sign a gentle blur through his partially open lids. Nights of casual regret and measly distractions were far behind him. The Jaskier that made his rounds and laughed with the stiffs was not the one which inhabited his body.

He walked straight past Geralt when he arrived, too tired and far too fragile to take up a conversation uninebriated. Sitting down at the stool deepest in the dark, the waitress slid him his usual without asking. It was a gesture that both made him happy and mortified at the same time. To be known and seen by a bartender was not something on his bingo card for when he grew up. 

The night had come to almost a close at the bar, the hour between one and two could almost be described as the witching hour. Those that left had families and jobs and people to call if they went unaccounted for by sunrise. Those that remained however, clung to their glass and the edge of the table as their last stretch of reality. He had come at the halfway point, a shift from those two crowds left him almost completely alone with the nonjudgmental eyes of the staff and the low murmur of the jukebox.

One drink turned into two until eventually Jaskier couldn’t place the cuts on his knuckles and the bruise lacing his collarbones didn’t bring tears to his eyes when he poked it. He laid on the counter and watched the room rise and fall with the heave of his chest and laughed at how Geralt seemed to rock back and forth on his walk across the room. 

His hand created a hot spot on his back, “Jaskier, it’s closing time. Let’s get you home yeah?” It was the softest he’d ever heard Geralt’s voice. Then again, everything sounded like it was underwater to him. He nodded against the wood and turned to stand up, only to find the floor rushing at him instead. Geralt caught him in the knick of time, snaking one of his arms around Jaskier’s middle and tossing a limp arm around his broad shoulders. “You’ve gone too far this time, could you pick up your feet? Fuck- what do you eat?” 

Geralt walked them outside, not letting Jaskier go for more than a minute to call the car company; who’s last ride for the night went out just five minutes prior. “Alright.” Geralt sighed and started in the direction of the parking lot, Jaskier dragging his feet by his side. “Don’t cough up a lung in my car or it’ll be your ass, alright?” 

“Hm.” 

“That better be a yes." 

“I want to go home.” Jaskier whined while Geralt loaded him into the backseat, trying and failing to get him to sit upright for longer than a few seconds. “I’m tired.” With a gentle push, Jaskier was laying on his side in the backseat, one arm making good use as a pillow and the other helping hold his knees to his chest. 

Geralt took one look back before starting in the direction of Jaskier’s house, periodically checking in again whenever he heard the leather squeak or the hint of a groan. “Where did you come from anyway?”

Jaskier had a hand in front of his face, flexing each finger and wondering if he was born with scraped knuckles, “Work.”

He thought for a moment, looking back on their history and tried to think of the moment he found out what Jaskier did for a living; only to come up blank. “What do you-“ There was a loud snore in place of an answer. “Alright then.” Roach pulled slowly into the driveway and sat still, Geralt thinking of what he was going to do. “How the fuck am I going to get you in the house?” He spoke to no one, Jaskier turned over with his back pointed towards Geralt and let another loud snore reverberate through the car.

The only option he had without waking Jaskier up was to carry him bridal-style; fumbling with the keys in his hand under Jaskier’s legs and kicking the door open. He paused for a moment in the dark, looking over the small living room and pitch-black hallway through squinted eyes. The room was virtually empty; the only furniture he could make out was a couch, coffee table, and TV from Gods know when carefully balanced on a stack of milk-crates. He couldn’t make out much else past his nose, but the reflection of bottles lining the kitchen windows against the streetlamps gave him enough of an impression.

He walked forward one foot at a time, knowing better than to scare Jaskier awake by turning on the light. Geralt moved slowly, creeping down the hall and finding the only other open door besides the small bathroom at the end. As gently as possible, he kicked the door open and laid Jaskier down on the bed; who immediately curled himself into fetal position and continued to snore as if he’d been there the whole time. 

Geralt turned to go, confident in what he’d done and felt better knowing that Jaskier was home safe in bed. He tried to take his leave, making his way through the dark with arms outstretched, only to freeze dead in his tracks at the sound of Jaskier mumbling his name.

“Geralt is that you?” Jaskier opened one eye and strained himself to see more than a silhouette, successfully becoming nauseous. 

He turned around slowly and sat on the end of the bed, “Yeah, it’s me. You got pretty wasted, so I decided to take you home myself.” 

Jaskier thought on this for a second, his face making the biggest smile it could. “You did that for me?” He tried to sit up, but was pushed down by Geralt and scolded to stay there. “Can you stay?”

“What?” 

“Can-“ Jaskier yawned, “Can you please stay?” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t want to be home alone.” His voice was low and he tried his best in his current state not to beg, though it slipped from his eyes rather than his mouth. 

Geralt looked at him, feeling a lack of sympathy or pity; but compassion. He sighed and stood up again, “Yeah, I can stay.” He knew Yennefer would be mad, infuriated even. But she’d survived nights without him before, why would this be any different? 

Jaskier nodded his thanks and laid back down on the pillow, his head heavy and bones aching. He watched Geralt from the corner of his eyes leave the room and move the few pillows he had on the couch, coming back in to steal a blanket from the end of his bed. “Geralt?” 

He stopped in the doorway and turned around, brushing his hair with a free hand.“Yeah?” 

“Thank you.”

“No pro-“

“Not for taking me home.” His words were slurred, but his tone was meaningful. 

Geralt furrowed his brows and looked down at him, catching the shimmer of a tear reflect in the low light. “Then for what?” 

“For looking at me like I’m a person.”  


Though confused, Geralt had heard enough drunk confessions to know that it was best to leave it in the air. There was no denying that he meant it, the tears alone told Geralt a million different stories. This was not a conversation for now, but from the look in Jaskier’s tired eyes, there would be time another day.

He nodded slowly, letting the words sit for long enough for the moment to pass and walked back into the living room. The couch was far too small for him and the pillows much too soft, but it would work for however many hours tonight he could find to rest. 

Geralt thought in mixes of consciousness and dreams of the bruise that curled its way around Jaskier’s neck. There was something under the smile, a meaning behind his always bleeding cuticles and guarded exterior. He found himself going to sleep that early morning in a subtle rage at whoever put their hands on Jaskier like that, and what’d he do to them if he found out.


	7. Don't Burn the House Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier wakes up to smell of something on fire; is it the house? Or something stranger?

Jaskier slept through the night wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets, isolating himself completely from the world beyond. His face had remained exposed and instead of being woken up by one of his reoccurring nightmares, instead, he woke to the smell of something on fire. He sat up straight, a headache behind his eyes making him regret the sudden movement. 

He stood up slowly, each motion causing a new sensation and small groans in different pitches as he walked towards the mirror. There was a crack in the corner of the glass from one of his nights spent away from the world. His temper had gotten the best of him, his reflection not of himself but a caricature of what he had once been. 

Looking into it now, what he saw made him remember the previous night in almost its entirety. In his death-like sleep, he had almost forgotten the hands around his neck. The feeling of the yellow-toned lights fading from his eyes for just long enough to wonder what came next. He thought then of how he ended up at home, his memory only stretched to being face-down on the bar and Geralt’s hand on his back. 

He snapped back to the smell of burning, the scent of the color black, thinking of what he’d do if the house was on fire. In the end, not much; there were very few things he held close enough to his heart to care much about anyway. Himself included.

Then he heard singing, low and wholly unfamiliar, coming from the kitchen just outside his bedroom door. “What the fuck?” He whispered, grabbing hold to the first thing he could feel around for. Which happened to be the least threatening weapon in the world: a plastic wiffle ball bat with a hole right at the top. “Perfect, just perfect.” He took a deep breath and crept around the corner, being extra careful of the floorboards that squeaked, only to pause at the sight of Geralt at the stove, turned away from view and swaying back and forth to music only he could hear.

The bat went limp at his side and a look of amused confusion came over his face whilst he shook his head trying to break the image down to nothing. Alas, it wasn’t a hungover illusion but a current event. “Geralt?” He took a step closer and threw the bat into the next room, fully ignoring the sound of glass shattering. “What are you doing here- did you break in?” 

Geralt jumped and put a hand over his chest, “Shit! Don’t scare me like that!” 

“It’s my fucking house!” 

He turned around to face him, completely ignoring his expected confusion and presented two plates of dark brown pancakes and questionably colored eggs. “I made you food.” Cooking wasn’t his strong suit, but his mother always told him to try his best.  
Jaskier looked at the plates, still reeling over waking up in his own bed and Geralt standing in the middle of his house. This wasn’t something he ever thought he’d see- awake at least. In his dreams Geralt was wearing far less clothes. “Um, thank you. How did you-“

“You need to eat something. Where are your dishes?” Geralt was oddly calm, unnaturally so in Jaskier’s opinion. He watched him fumble around his cabinets until he found the mix-matched plates and only two forks he had at all. “Are you going to keep standing there or eat the hockey pucks I made for us?” Geralt smiled at him and pointed to the empty chair across the table. 

“Frankly I’d rather go back to bed with the sight of those things.” Jaskier made himself laugh and loosened up a bit, walking the rest of the distance to the table and trying his best not to gag at the scent of burnt butter. His stomach took over soon after and ignored his nose, and it wasn’t long until he was four pancakes deep and eating as though he hadn’t all week. Which wasn’t far from the truth. 

Geralt simply watched- not that he wasn’t hungry- but Jaskier needed to eat and Geralt could finish the entire meal (burnt or not) in less time than it took to make. There was an overwhelming feeling of concern that clouded him, filling the air around the table with such a permeation that it covered the scent of char. There was so much Geralt wanted to know about him now that he’d gone a step deeper into his world. His eyes danced from Jaskier’s knuckles to his throat and it took every tooth in his mouth to keep his tongue bitten and his concerns quiet. “So, what do you do to get a place like this?” 

He had been afraid of this question for a while now. It was the question that ended friendships and always interested the wrong types of people. Jaskier choked on an egg and looked down, “I work in the night life industry.” This answer had come from many months of trying different words and phrases to soften the blow of what he did for a living. However, not even in the most delicately put ways did it ever get a favorable reaction.

“I didn’t know you were in my line of work. What club do you work at?”

He paused for a moment and suppressed a bitter laugh, putting down his fork and waiting before having their eyes meet again. His heartbeat had struck his throat and made the purple painted on his skin reignite in time with the rhythm. “I’m self employed.” 

The band-aid had been ripped off and the words sat in the air, Geralt looking at him in confusion and Jaskier watching the statement work its way around his brain. It took longer that Jaskier thought that it would, but he waited patiently regardless and fiddled with his fingernails.  
_“This is the end, was nice while it lasted.” _He thought to himself.__

_______ _ _ _

____Geralt looked once more at the bruise and his eyes widened in realization. Not only to what Jaskier meant, but to who’d hurt him in such a way. “I see,” He looked around, trying to push away the tension with each motion of his head despite the curious rage he felt growing in his gut. “You’ve done well for yourself though, that’s something to be proud of.” He took a slow sip of his coffee, repressing the urge to wince from the heat and looked across the table, worried about the silence. “Right?”_ _ _ _

_____ _

____“There’s not many things that I’m proud of.”_ _ _ _

_____ _

____Geralt knew that he had said the wrong thing judging by the look that blanketed the man sitting in front of him. He could see from the way Jaskier tried to hide himself away that there were many things left unsaid. Rather than push him further away than he already had, Geralt took on the optimism for them both. “At least you’re not responsible for whatever this is.” He picked up a blackened pancake and banged it against the table. “That’s something to be proud of if you ask me.”_ _ _ _

_____ _

____They both laughed and admired the sounds mixing together in a stream of unfalsified joy. Jaskier had felt overwhelmingly relieved, not only that, but accepted. He wanted to express this to Geralt, break down and reveal every corner of himself that previously sat collecting dust. But the look in his eyes was too beautiful, too human. Rather than dim it with his tales of brutality and pain, he chose to bask himself in whatever emotion Geralt brought to the table._ _ _ _

_____ _

____At the moment, it was contentment._ _ _ _

_____ _

____“Are you ok?” Geralt reached across the table and tapped the burnt pancake on his forehead. “I haven’t poisoned you have I?” Jaskier smiled instead of answering and collected the plates to wash them. Geralt watched the way he moved, the labored breaths and caught the subtle limp he was trying so desperately to hide. “Do you want me to do that for you?”_ _ _ _

_____ _

____“I’m not a child, I’ve got it just fine.” He turned the sink on and stood with his back to Geralt, the water seeping its way into the middle of his t-shirt. “I meant to ask, why are you here? I’m not complaining, can’t remember the last time I had a guest- but I don’t know how I got here, much less you.” His tone voice was low, tired._ _ _ _

_____ _

____He cleared his throat. “The last car for the night went out just after we closed and there was no way in hell you could stand, much less walk. So I took you home myself.” He took a sip of coffee and winced at the burning sensation spreading itself around his mouth._ _ _ _

_____ _

____“And you stayed because...?” Jaskier spun around and trailed off, arms folded across his chest._ _ _ _

_____ _

____“You asked me to.”_ _ _ _

_____ _

____“And you listened to me? That’s a first.”_ _ _ _

_____ _

____Geralt laughed, both in agreeance and at himself. Hearing it come from Jaskier’s mouth instead of his own head made it sound somewhat stupid. “Have you ever met yourself? You didn’t give me much choice mate.”_ _ _ _

_____ _

____Jaskier thought for a moment, tilting his chin to the ceiling and tracing the bruise. “Never mind that’s a fair point. You’re a shit cook but you’re a good friend.”_ _ _ _

_____ _

____“Only half of that is true.”_ _ _ _

_____ _

____“Which one?”_ _ _ _

_____ _

____“I can’t fucking cook.”_ _ _ _

_____ _

____They both paused, Geralt with cup in hand and Jaskier studying the plaster. A wall had come down between them at that moment. “Friend” did not come to mind when they thought of one another. The word had formed itself naturally from the curve of the lips to the tip of the tongue and not for a syllable did either feel it was a lie. It was a comfortable reality, one which went without further discussion._ _ _ _

_____ _

____The larger man felt the wall come down, his own discomfort following almost immediately thereafter. There was something too good about this, too comfortable. He had even managed to forget about Yennefer for long enough to enjoy Jaskier’s company. Though when he remembered, Geralt knew he’d likely have a different fire waiting for him at home. If he could even still call it that anymore. “I have to go.”_ _ _ _

_____ _

____Jaskier couldn’t hide the disappointment from his voice, “Dining and dashing are we? I don’t think so Cowboy, come dry this pan.”_ _ _ _

_____ _

____“I’m serious, my girlfriend is probably wondering if I’ve run off or something.” Geralt stood and moved quickly to the couch, setting things as he found them and frantically patting his pockets for his keys._ _ _ _

_____ _

____“Under the coffee-table- careful! Almost stepped on your phone.” It didn’t bother him that Geralt had a girlfriend, not in the least. That’s what he told himself that is._ _ _ _

_____ _

____Geralt looked at the screen and groaned, there were twelve unread messages and six voicemails. “Fuck.” He lunged over the couch, making Jaskier jump, and took a final pancake from the table. “I’m really sorry, but I have to go.”_ _ _ _

_____ _

____“It’s alright, you still owe me that lunch anyway.”_ _ _ _

_____ _

____“Right.” Geralt hopped once more over the couch and turned to give a wave before disappearing into the mid-morning dew._ _ _ _

_____ _

____Jaskier listened to the car start from the kitchen, standing absolutely still to catch the crunches of the asphalt and his tires squeaking off of the street. The light vibrations of his music slowly faded into the distance, and he was alone again. He turned around and looked at the leftovers, though there wasn’t very much, and Jaskier couldn’t help but smile to himself._ _ _ _

_____ _

____Perhaps he wasn’t as alone as he thought, not anymore._ _ _ _

_____ _

____Geralt had been correct in his assumption that he no longer had a place to call home. From the moment his keys pried open the lock on his apartment, he could hear her footsteps bounding to meet him and hesitated for only a moment to steel himself from whatever scolding he knew he deserved._ _ _ _

_____ _

____“Look who finally decided to come the fuck home! Is she pretty? I hope she is because you’re going back to wherever the fuck you came from!” Yennefer threw a duffle bag at his chest and flailed her arms in the air. Veins popped from her neck, violet eyes going wild._ _ _ _

_____ _

____He stood there, not meeting her gaze more in fear than shame. “I wasn’t with another woman, there isn’t another woman. If you’ll just let me-“_ _ _ _

_____ _

____“No! I don’t want to hear anymore of your bullshit excuses! I never see you, you’re always working late, what even are we anymore?” Yen took another step closer and crossed her arms, eyes dry and tone pointed. “I’m not doing this by myself anymore, get the fuck out.”_ _ _ _

_____ _

____Geralt was partly relieved that she said it instead of him, lest he do it and get slapped or look like the asshole. Though, come to think of it, in more ways than one- he still was. He tried anyway, some effort was better than tail-between-the-legs acceptance. “Yen please, it’s not what you think.” He looked up at her and slowly put the bag down on the floor._ _ _ _

_____ _

____She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, shaking from anger rather than nerves. “It’s never what I think, is it? I can’t do this anymore, we can’t do this anymore.” She picked up the bag and put it back in his hands, holding them for the last time. “I love you.” They stood like that for a moment, close like lovers but divided like strangers. Yen moved away and opened the door for him, “I’ll have the rest of your stuff packed by tonight, I’ll leave it outside. Call me if I missed anything.” It was cold and separated, the new autonomy already laying the foundation._ _ _ _

_____ _

____He said nothing and started to leave, staring down at the welcome mat whilst the door hit his heels. In the hallway he stood, sunlight illuminating him and for the first time in a long time, Geralt felt awake._ _ _ _

_____ _

____“Where the fuck am I going to live?” The answer struck him suddenly and only for a moment did he consider the consequences._ _ _ _

_____ _


	8. Mi Casa es Su Casa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Circumstances change for Geralt, who needs a place to stay. He realizes quickly that he is not the person he thought he was.

“I need a favor.” Geralt stood in the parking lot, staring at Yen, who was staring right back at him through parted curtains. Her eyes were dry soft, waiting for his departure before the reality came down on her.

Jaskier had nearly fallen back asleep, unraveling himself and his tight muscles on the small couch in a dangerously comfortable position, “Those are always such promising words, why am I afraid?” 

“Now’s not the time for joking! Shut up and listen to me for a second.” 

He sat up and took a deep breath, “I know what you’re going to say, and yes-“

“What?” Geralt was surprised that it was so easy, moreso that he knew what he was talking about at all. He buckled his seatbelt and relaxed against the headrest, feeling a sudden stir in his chest that was wholly unfamiliar. Almost like a heart attack. 

“-Yes, I will have your children.” He laughed like a maniac into the phone, harder every time a series of swears came louder through the receiver. 

Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose and spoke slowly, “I don’t have anywhere to live right now. Sh- she kicked me out, can I stay on your couch, just for a few days?” To not sound as desperate as he truly was became difficult, the smallest inclination slipping over his tongue. 

Jaskier began to pace around his living room, frantically trying to clean up the bits of glass and random piles of trash around his house. “Here? Don’t shout at me, I mean this literally but please take me out to dinner first.”

“It’s not forever, just until I can figure some things out.” Geralt peered at the parking lot of what was once his apartment from the rearview mirror, duffle bag staring back at him from the passengers seat. 

“Oh there was never a chance at me saying no Cowboy, you should’ve known that.” He laughed into the receiver at the low grunt and sounds of a spent temperament that followed. “You can break down my door anytime…”

“Not now!” 

“Sorry, sorry.” Jaskier paused, satisfied with his work, trying his best to contain his childish excitement. “When should I be expecting you?” He heard the cracking of asphalt and felt the vibrations of the radio in his feet, “You’re so polite, and apparently a fantastic driver too; have you considered teaching a class?” 

“Open the fucking door.” His voice was low and scratchy, as if holding back tears; though Jaskier didn’t believe it when he heard it. The idea of Geralt’s crying or his eyes so much as becoming misty seemed to be an inconceivable idea. 

Jaskier hopped over his couch and did as he was told, making sure to keep out of the way. Seeing Geralt’s face, he opened his mouth with he intention of saying something, though no words came out. The unprecedented had indeed happened. Geralt appeared to be crying. You wouldn’t know it how by how he walked inside, no implication that even Geralt knew what had come over him. 

For once, he was speechless. What does the broken say to the unbreakable?

So he watched him from the safe distance of the door; the sharp movements to take off his jacket, every time he cursed under his breath, his refusal to touch the duffle bag. “There’s a closet behind you, if you don’t mind sharing with my sheets.” Jaskier spoke calmly, trying to convey the emotion and bring down the heat of the room. 

“Hm.” There was a hidden sniffle, a subtle wipe of the eye. Geralt was more angry with his body for doing what it’s almost never done before, it felt like a betrayal rather than a release. 

He picked up the bag after staring at it for some time and walked to the closet, taking no notice to the small patches of mess and stray bottles that Jaskier missed. The tunnel vision engulfed him, more focus on the door and his feet than his shaking hands and Jaskier’s gaze. He knelt down, each thing he pulled from the bag truly had value to him now for the first time. The t-shirts she packed for the remainder of the summer and sweaters for winter no longer were just clothes to be replaced; but some of the few items he owned at all.

Jaskier, always the room reader, piped up when he heard another series of concealed sniffling. “You know, most men don’t angrily weep at the sight of me. I am a sweet treat, a fucking delight to be around.” He made his way across the room and stood over Geralt, who looked up at him; his face twisting into one of sorrow and finally crying into the fabric of a t-shirt. “Oh fuck, oh _fuck _,” He bit his knuckles, “I’m so sorry.”__

__Geralt heard nothing he said, his ears filling up with cotton, the rise and fall of his chest quickening and the annoying sensation of tears rolling down his face. He had never felt so frail before, so vulnerable. He hated it more than anything but couldn’t stop it if he tried, so he let go._ _

__In a quick rise from the floor, Geralt wrapped his arms around Jaskier and started to weep into the crook of his neck. The smaller man stood stunned, unsure of whether a true embrace would make him pull away or cry harder; both options completely unfamiliar to him. He patted Geralt’s back awkwardly, “It’s- uh, ok? I think- I hope. Did you want to sit down?”_ _

__Geralt nodded into his neck and pulled away. He made no sound, no whimpering or quick exhales to recuperate. The man stood in a weary stillness that felt far too private for Jaskier to be privy to in his own living room. His steps were slow and labored, the emotions had begun to wear him down and all he wanted to do was sleep._ _

__Jaskier sat down next to him, hands between his legs and trying his best not to stare. Another wave came over him, rendering Geralt’s head between his knees and the tears to fall silently; his back rising and falling with shaky breaths. A dizzy spell came over him, the only place to turn and lay being Jaskier’s lap._ _

__“Oh, ok this is happening-“ He moved his hands above his head, once again unsure of where exactly to place them. One found itself rubbing Geralt’s shoulder and the other on Jaskier’s temple, fingers tapping every once and while to ensure he wasn’t still sleeping. “Did you want to talk about it?” He whispered, keeping a watchful eye on the expressions that came over Geralt’s face._ _

__He wiped the stray tears from his eyes, the fit passing and lamenting silence remaining. “I have nothing. No real family, no things of real importance, no home.” He paused, the words hurting more now being said aloud. “The only person who loved me left me and now I’m alone.” His voice was low, barely audible, gravely._ _

__“Well that’s bullshit.” Jaskier snorted._ _

__Geralt rolled quickly on his back and looked up at Jaskier, causing a handful of grunts at the movement of his head, “Excuse me?”_ _

__“I said, you’re not alone jackass.” He used his free hand to point to himself. “I may not be a girlfriend but I’m certainly not a stranger or else you wouldn’t have asked to sleep on my couch.” He thought for a moment, “There’s Renfri and from what I’ve heard when I bother to pay attention, she cares about you a great deal.” Jaskier looked down at him, voice lowering to a hush. “No one’s ever really alone.” The words struck him as he said them, perhaps giving himself some much needed advice._ _

__Geralt looked away and furrowed his brows, it pissed him off that Jaskier was right. He then looked down at himself, feeling a sudden wave of embarrassment come over him. A big man such as himself crying in another mans lap? His father would go ballistic. But he didn’t have the care nor the energy to move. Where else would he go?_ _

__He looked back up at Jaskier and sighed, a stray tear trailing down his cheek. Jaskier leaned forward, their noses coming dangerously close and caught it on a shaky fingertip, flicking it away. The proximity made Geralt’s chest hurt again, though he had no desire to cry._ _

__His eyes fell closed, the weight of the morning coming down on him to replace the since faded sadness. This had been building for five years, these burdens, these hidden facets of himself he had refused to believe exist. He had never found time to cry nor question if he even could._ _

__The heavy breathing lulled to an even sleep, his exhaustion leaving his body limp and rock steady; pinning Jaskier to the couch with the weight of his head._ _

__He hadn’t noticed the man sleeping soundly on his lap until Geralt’s mouth slowly started to fall open. “Geralt? You should- oh.” He started to stir, his head nailing Jaskier square in the groin. He suppressed a loud grunt, worried of making any sound beyond a breath. “If someone woke me up in the middle of the night and told me there’d be a big sexy man living in my house, I’d laugh.” He looked down at Geralt, moving a piece of silver hair that plastered itself to his cheek. “But here I am.”_ _

__There was no place to go, so he got comfortable; slowly putting his feet on the coffee table and turning the TV on, learning then how to conjure subtitles. Geralt turned once more to his side, now facing Jaskier’s stomach and making a hotspot over a hidden bruise. The sensation made his eyes droopy, though determined to stay up should Geralt wake and need him for something, anything._ _

__So, Jaskier started to hum._ _

__The song was nothing at first, a series of random sounds and stupid phrases that came to mind. It had then started to evolve, becoming songs he tried to remember all of the words to that used to be his favorites years ago. Ending with what he could piece together of the melody Geralt had played in the car that shook the interior. With that, Geralt had stopped moving finally and found comfort in holding Jaskier as close to him as possible, an arm snaking its way unconsciously around his waist._ _

__Had he not been so tired himself, Jaskier would’ve broken down and wept. Closeness and such a tenderness as shared space in peaceful silence was not something he had ever experienced. Even in a sitting platonic state, which to him was up for debate anyway, those that knew him had always kept an arms-length away. There had been almost a bubble surrounding him, the outer layer reading “Biohazard.”_ _

__They drifted off to sleep together, hands dancing on intertwinement and colors from the screen painting their faces. The sun had soon sat on the horizon, streetlamps coming to life and the dull phases of twilight showing itself through the curtained windows._ _

__Geralt felt the dull vibration of his phone alarm in his pocket, waking him up with somewhat of a start and a grunt. He opened his eyes, coming face first with the fabric of a t-shirt and reminding himself about what had happened and where he was. Rather than jump up and risk giving Jaskier a heart-attack, Geralt sat up carefully, putting a pillow where his head had been and combing his hair with his fingers._ _

__He looked around, pulling his phone out and realizing from the time that he would be late for work. Though on a weekday, that meant almost nothing. He didn’t want to go to work, but looking around the room and realizing it was his bedroom all in one; there wasn’t much of a choice._ _

__Geralt sighed and turned to leave, looking back at Jaskier and tilting his head to the side. “What a curious man I’ve put my faith in.” Before he went out into whatever the night had to offer, he wrote out a small note and taped it the TV._ _

_“Jaskier, I went to work and should be back before sunrise. Thanks again for not making me homeless. Geralt." ___

__He walked then to the driveway, sighing again while the house faded from view .“‘A fucking delight’ he says, ‘a sweet treat’ he says,” He laughed out loud, smiling for the first time since the morning. “This should be fun.”_ _

____


	9. Bruised Lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt sees Jaskier's job take another toll on him and reaches the beginning of his own breaking point. Welcome to sexual tension: the chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also a little actual sexual content for those that need a warning.
> 
> *I would just like to state that I know not all sex work is like this, this is just the kind of work I wanted to portray for the storyline.*

A crack of thunder woke Jaskier up from a pleasant dream, which to him, came rarely. He had remained on the couch, head throw back, feet propped up, hands caressing what was now just a throw pillow. His first instinct was to look down and check on Geralt, lest he wake up with a start and further crush Jaskier’s abdomen. He was worried to see no one at all, his house silent. Jaskier stretched himself in all directions, yawning with a scream, the pops and cracks of worn bones following and stood up with another loud pop to shuffle to the front window. 

“He really knows how to make an exit.” Jaskier peered at the empty driveway and chuckled to himself. His ears perked us as headlights turned onto his quiet street, only to sigh when the car drove past the house, “Where’s the bastard gone?” The small piece of white paper stood out amongst the blanketed darkness and he strained to read it in his barely conscious state. Jaskier crumpled the note with a smile and threw it at a random, but building, pile of similarly crumpled papers. Bills, threatening letters and checks from home lived there; the zip code separate from his own. 

Jaskier put his hands on his hips and exhaled slowly, his shift was slowly approaching and he wasn’t ready by any means. His hair found itself closer resembling a birds nest and music note pajama pants didn’t exactly scream sex appeal; though he could think of a few people who would be into that. 

The shower was his first move, scrubbing off the innocence he had built back during sleep. Bathing before and after his walks were of the utmost importance to him. They were new beginnings, a chance, a hope that perhaps whatever (or whoever) happened afterwards would leave him as he left himself. Overtime that had become wishful thinking, but it was in his nature to dream. 

Getting dressed usually proved to be a challenge. The common question being: what could capture the right kind of attention in the wrong kind of neighborhood? September had started to roll through New Cintra and with it, a chill in the air that struck your bones should you be underdressed. The leaves retained their green but stunning yellows and oranges crept on the outer edges and corners. It was the beginning of the end for the season of hot pants and cropped shirts.

Which was a shame in Jaskier’s opinion, those were his favorite. 

After spending some tome rifling through both the clean and dirty piles of clothes, Jaskier settled on something fairly simple. From the back of his closet, He managed to find a vest from his early days in the business; a satin black number that wasn’t meant to and will not be worn with anything underneath it. His jeans were tight, uncomfortably so, he grinned are bared it regardless as he didn’t expect to keep them on for very long anyway. 

Looking at everything together and buttoned in the mirror, Jaskier couldn’t help but gawk at himself. This was his favorite part, the getting all dolled up. The pretending that all was well and somewhat normal despite how many times the same scene had been played time and time again.

He touched the bruise that had already started to fade to match his flesh, “Let’s have a calm night, yeah?” He spoke to his reflection, “We get in, we get out- maybe have a shot- and get to bed before Geralt gets back.” Jaskier nodded, affirming the plan and walked calmly out into the cover of night. 

It had grown colder than he anticipated. Autumn did not arrive with pacificity, her arms stretched across New Cintra in gusts of wind and the crunching of grass under his shoes. Jaskier shivered, he wasn’t dressed for this weather and still expected the wet humidity to stick to his clothes as it had just a week prior.

He came upon the back alley, the land of those just like him. The track-marked, the stoned, those that refused to make eye-contact, the ones wrapped in furs no matter the weather.

Those that shared his shift mainly kept to themselves, which he found to be dull and unbelievably rude. It had been an aggressive silence, one that came one day out of the blue and remained for the foreseeable future. This had arrived after the one that taught them all they knew had been killed, the perpetrator unknown and for all they know, still out for blood. Those that didn’t leave for the nine to five remained with a constant sense of fear, knives strapped to their ankles and affairs in order should the unlikely, and seemingly inevitable, come to be. 

Jaskier did not harbor this same sense of fear, for he did not care as much as the rest. 

A familiar car pulled in front of him, one that the others knew quite well and shied away from; it had been made quite clear several months ago that the window only rolled own for him. A white SUV with the blacked out windows and tan leather seats that stuck to his skin in July came for Jaskier every night he was out. It’d be flattering, if acted as nice as he paid. 

“It’s good to see you again.” Jaskier’s voice took on a sultry whisper, one which he bottled and kept hidden away. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” It was a lie, a perfectly packaged lie.

The man didn’t respond, only smiling and showing bright white teeth. His eyes remained hidden under sunglasses, Jaskier had never fully seen his face. He opened the door and climbed in, eyes flicking to the backseat to ensure they were truly alone. A roll of twenties sat in a cup holder like bars of gold. His reason and the green justification for putting himself through this time and time again; he told himself that it would be all worth it in the end. 

Two hours went by in a dark alley not far from the bar. The man hadn’t said a word the entire time, choosing instead to wrap his hands hard enough around Jaskier’s thighs to leave spots and scratch beads of blood down his back. There was a part of him that enjoyed it; the feeling of being wanted, desired, even needed in some cases.

When let out of the car, handsomely paid and somewhat cleaned up, that feeling had faded as quickly as it came. The only desire he felt was for that of a cold drink to take over his throat and return him to that state of contentment he felt when he opened his eyes that morning. 

So he walked down that familiar street and opened those same doors, being careful not to attract any attention to himself for once; now in fear of Geralt’s judging gaze rather than a fight. He had caught himself once again in that witching hour, those that joined him becoming one with the wall and not looking up lest they catch a glimpse of themselves. 

Before Jaskier could lift a finger, a familiar hand came down on his shoulder, quickly removing itself when his entire body tensed at the sensation. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” Geralt’s voice was low, his eyes moving up and down Jaskier’s exposed back and the marks that showed themselves boldly.

Jaskier looked at him, “Nothing much, this is actually quite tame.” He shrugged his shoulders and yawned. “I feel fine.” He had bitten his lips raw in increasing anxiety, the smallest bead of blood gathering at the center of his bottom. 

“Tame my ass.” Geralt came closer to get a full look at him, becoming more and more agitated with every blink of his eyes. He tilted Jaskier’s chin up by the tip of his finger, eliciting a hitch in his breath and widened eyes. Delicately with his thumb the collection of blood was wiped away, cuts both on his lip and jaw examined with a slitted gaze. No words passed between them, Geralt’s anger building into a barely contained rage as his eyes flicked up to meet Jaskier’s. “Who did this to you?” His tone contained a tensity that made Jaskier’s heart skip a beat, unable to respond with more than a sheepish blush. 

Geralt disappeared into the back, his shift coming almost to a close, reappearing with his keys in hand and a hard scowl on his face. “I’m taking you home- don’t fucking sigh at me, Gods know what the rest of you looks like.” 

Jaskier stood up and accepted defeat, arms open, “I’ve invited you several times to find out Cowboy.” Before Geralt could drag him away, he signaled the bartender for a shot and threw it down his throat just as he was pulled back out into the frigid air by his arm. 

The larger man was virtually beside himself at the sight of Jaskier, his stomach dropping into the soles of his shoes. Now with the understanding of what had transpired, he felt an overwhelming sense of pain that he could do nothing to stop it. 

Their ride to the house was silent, no agonizing small talk or prodding questions, nor music to distract either from the unspoken truth. Jaskier, bleeding in the passengers sight, sitting at a tilt from his wallet and Geralt, wishing death on whoever did both. 

Geralt put the car in park when they reached the driveway and turned to face him, trying his best not to stare at the nail marks on his jaw, “I’m not going to make you tell me what happened-“

“Good.”

“-but you can tell me if you want to, whenever. I- I’m worried about you.” His voice grew soft, concerned.

Jaskier thought about it for a moment before growing uncomfortable at the sincerity and getting out of the car. He felt Geralt’s presence on the stairs behind him as he unlocked the door, “You can go back to work, don’t feel obligated to look after me. I’m a big boy.”

“I know.”

He looked back as he turned on the lights, “Since when did you care about what happened to me?” 

Geralt closed the door and walked right past him towards the bathroom, “I care about my friends, especially the ones that don’t care for themselves.” He said it casually and with very little forethought, the words forming on their own and coming out without hesitation. “How do you turn the shower on?”

“Left knob for cold, right for hot- what are you doing?” He followed him, wary but curious. 

Geralt stood next to the shower, sleeves rolled up, testing and adjusting the water temperature. “I’m not going to fucking drown you, come here.” When the water was to his liking, he stepped aside and pointed at it, “Is that too hot?” 

“What the hell are you doing?” 

“Forcing you to take a shower.” 

Jaskier groaned, “I was going to do that anyway, I’m a grown man I don’t need your help!” He felt the water anyway to make Geralt go away and was irritated to find it just the way he liked it. “It’s fine. Will you leave now?” 

He nodded and silently left the room, closing the door behind him. 

Jaskier moved slowly and struggled to take his clothes off by himself, refusing to call out and ask for help. Where he thought tight muscles rested revealed themselves to be dots of purple and lines of red. Phantom fingertips traced themselves over ribs and backs of his thighs, causing winces and jumps at nothing but memories. The water burned his back, washing away the maker of such stinging and leaving behind the open-ended question of why he allowed himself to be handled like a toy rather than a God. 

Geralt waited patiently in the kitchen, pacing back and forth deep in thought and waiting for the rush of steam that eventually came from the bathroom. He looked up and watched Jaskier move from one room to the next like a ghost and rushed to follow close behind. The floor creaked with each step he took, as he was a heavy man and never quite mastered the art of subtlety.

“I have to-“ He stopped in the doorway and put a fist over his mouth to contain a gasp at the sight of Jaskier. 

Lucky for them both, he was in the midst of dressing, wearing only boxer shorts and pausing with pants in hand to allow for the expected shock. He didn’t want to look at himself in the cracked glass, but could only imagine how he appeared to the untrained eye. 

Geralt’s face hardened, “Who.” 

“What?” Jaskier turned around, unfazed. 

“Who did this to you?” He took another step forward, afraid of touching him and putting him in anymore pain. “I mean it this time, what’s his fucking name?”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and went to pull on his pants, “I’m not allowed to discuss that, which I know you know. I consented, he paid me- no need to freak out.” He knew his words held no weight compared to Geralt’s visual rage. 

Geralt sat down on the corner of the mattress and pinched at his lips to get a hold of himself. “You’re ok with this?” He gestured to a bruise on Jaskier’s wrist, “With that?” 

“I never said all of that, now did I?” 

They sat in an uncomfortable silence. Jaskier slowly climbed into bed and tried his best to pretend to fall asleep, though he found it difficult to get comfortable, every part of him hurt. 

Geralt poked his foot with a wary hand to try and get his attention, “Will you at least let me clean  
up your back? It’ll get worse if I don’t.” He took on a whisper in case he had actually passed out. 

“Fine, I think I’m bleeding again anyway.” Jaskier sat up and handed him a first-aid kit from his bedside table, turning around with a huff and facing the wall. 

Geralt took a moment to stare, his back looked at though he’d been kneaded by a cat. There would undoubtably be scarring, some of the marks had already puffed up in an attempt to heal themselves. “This is going to hurt, ok?”

“No, but you’re going to do it anyway so let’s get on with it.” Geralt pressed the alcohol wipe to the first few marks, Jaskier’s skin feeling like it was lit on fire. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!” Despite the multiple protests and back twisting in newfound pain, Geralt said nothing and pressed on; placing band-aids on the deep cuts and cream on the fainter ones. 

“All done.” His voice had shifted from anger to sadness, the deeper visual of Jaskier’s world coming to him with painful clarity and things from the last year making more sense to him than he would like. “I think it’s best if we both get some sleep, I’ll see you in the morning.” He got up quickly, attempting to leave before he fully lost his mind.

Jaskier sat up on his elbows, lips quivering, “Wait!” 

Geralt stopped in the doorway, “Hm?” 

“Can you stay?” He walked on eggshells and sat back down on the end of the bed, nodding. Jaskier closed his eyes, “That’s not what I meant.” 

“Then what did you-“ 

He watched Jaskier move over to the other side of the mattress and turn away from him, afraid once again of an embarrassing rejection. 

“Oh.” He hesitated for only a second, possibilities and even some consequences flying through his head, ultimately making his way next to Jaskier over the covers. “Is this alright?” 

Jaskier flipped over, inching his way closer to Geralt until their eyes could fully meet in the darkness. He leaned up on his elbow once more and kissed him on the cheek, lingering for only a moment before his arm went weak, forcing him back down on his side. “Thank you.” 

Geralt ran a hand through his hair, unsure of what had happened and moreso preventing himself from trying to replicate it. “Anytime, now get some sleep.” He laid down on his back and stared up at the ceiling, his all-encompassing thoughts making way for undoubtedly vivid dreams.

“Goodnight Geralt.” 

“Night Jaskier.”


	10. Goddamn Man-Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt voices his concerns again about Jaskier and maybe someone throws a plate. Who knows.

Geralt rose first, sleeping on his side, arms clutched to his chest over the covers with Jaskier’s back to his stomach. He had dreamt violently, of things he’d never done in waking hours and of men he’d never meet. Causing bruises of his own and not feeling an ounce of sympathy. There was sweat on his brow as he opened his eyes, his thoughts scaring him awake. He looked across the mattress at Jaskier, he slept with face scrunched in irritation, a line working itself into his forehead. 

The cut on his lower lip had bled through the night, working a steady stream onto Jaskier’s chin. Geralt reached out to wipe it away, pausing with his hand mid-air whilst Jaskier threw himself onto his opposing side. 

“And to think I hated you once, but look at us now.” Geralt rubbed his eyes and watched with fondness the curve of Jaskier’s back to his hips. The sunlight shining through the windows lit up his skin, the summer tan starting to fade and a paleness returning like snow to a field.

Their stomachs growled almost in synch, conversing more fluently than they had on any given day. Geralt, never in the position to ignore such a calling, threw his legs over the bed and tip-toed as best he could to get the kitchen, leaving the door open just in case he was needed. 

The kitchen looked virtually the same as it had yesterday; bottles lining the kitchen window, pan in the sink, flatware resting on a drying rack. He realized on his hunt to find mixing bowls and batter, that Jaskier most likely hadn’t eaten anything besides the rocks Geralt served him. Which was a damn shame, it was all the man knew how to make and Jaskier didn’t have cereal or bread. 

He sighed, throwing a kitchen towel over his shoulder and mixing water into the bowl, “I have to take this bloke food shopping- what the fuck is this?” He held up a box hidden behind a bottle on the counter, stale crackers from who know’s when, dust making a sweater on the corners. 

Geralt threw it in the general direction of the trash and continued, heating up the pan with butter and trying his hardest not to burn a single pancake. Tongue peeking from his teeth, he bent down close to the pan to watch them attentively. He pointed to the most perfect one of them all, made specifically for Jaskier and with the most care, “Don’t you fucking burn or I will throw you in the garbage.” 

“What are you doing?” 

He let out a yelp, surprisingly high for his stature, turning around with pink cheeks and a hand over his heart. “How long have you been standing there?”

Jaskier wiped the sleep from his eyes and laughed, “Long enough.” He sniffed at the air, surprised to find an absence in the scent of black. “Have you worked out the stove, or have I come just in time to call the fire department?”

Geralt, unamused, turned back around and flipped the pancakes onto a plate. “Even if I didn’t, you’d eat them regardless.” 

“We both know I make bad choices.” 

He let out a boisterous laugh, “That’s for fucking sure.” 

They sat down across from one another at the small table, stacking a comically large amount on mix-matched plates. Jaskier was surprised to find only one burnt, though not inedible. Halfway through the meal, Geralt put his fork down and stared at the mostly empty plate, his thoughts coming over him. 

“Can I talk to you for a second?” He looked up and met Jaskier’s concerned eyes, eyebrows knit lightly together. 

Jaskier matched his movements, putting his fork to the side and leaning in closer, nodding slowly. “Why am I afraid?” A million things rushed through his head. Had he gone too far yesterday? Has he found a new place to live? Did his girlfriend take him back? The last made him shiver. 

Geralt pushed his plate away and took one of Jaskier’s hands into his own, “I’m worried about you, very worried about you.”

“Oh this again.” Jaskier tried to lean back, to get away; but Geralt’s piercing gaze and firm grip kept him still. “I’m fine, I’m not in any kind of mortal peril- relax.” 

The man across from him sighed and wiped the undried patch of blood that had unknowingly gathered next to Jaskier’s mouth. “Do you call this fine?” Geralt showed him the blood remaining on his thumb, “This shouldn’t happen to you everyday, hell it shouldn’t happen at all.” 

“I did that myself.” He grumbled, knowing it wouldn’t change anything. 

“I don’t care who did it. What I _do _care about is someone out there hurting you and getting away with it! Don’t snort at me! What’s so fucking funny?” His spoke quickly and with building anger. His dream came back to him in a rush and he forcibly pushed down his rising temper, lest he explode.__

__“Nothing, nothing. It’s just that I’m still surprised you care this much.” Jaskier used his free hand to support his chin. “Quite the interesting month we’ve had.”_ _

__Geralt sat there speechless for a moment, less angry about Jaskier’s physical state and more at his stupidity. He tore his hand away and stood up, arms flailing in the air in annoyance, “Were you dropped on your head as baby? I care about you you thick-skulled ninny! And I can’t sit by and watch you get worse and worse everyday! You might actually die one of these nights you know? What would I do then? Hm? What would I do without you?” He was yelling, exasperated. Geralt sat back down, adjusted his shirt and looked into the distance, unable to make eye contact. “I’m not telling you what to do, but please, be careful.”_ _

__Jaskier tried his best to look unmoved, the emotions riding close beneath his skin and raring themselves to come to the surface. He didn’t know what to say, how to deflect, how to pretend he was still flying solo. So he said nothing and stood up, tears bordering his eyes, “I need a cigarette.” He cursed his voice for trembling and walked away, letting himself out onto the front porch and sliding down the wall, tears falling and melding with the blood on his chin._ _

__His cigarettes were in the house._ _

__Geralt stood at the table, chest heaving, eyes wide. He really didn’t know what he’d do without Jaskier. Truthfully, he didn’t think he needed him to begin with. Though in his absence, dreams coming to the forefront once again, he didn’t regret a thing he said. Never had he cared for another person as much as he did for Jaskier, admitting such a thing aloud however, was never intended._ _

__Silently, he began to tidy up the kitchen, gathering the mostly empty plates from the table and washing the forks, lost in thought. He took to cleaning the dishes to distract himself, the clanging of pans overshadowing the sound of the door opening and closing._ _

__Jaskier stood behind him once again, “What would you do if I told you?”_ _

__“Told me what?” Geralt couldn’t turn to face him, irritated at his hard-headedness and overcome with a protective rage._ _

__“Who.”_ _

__His ears perked up, now interested and unsure of himself as to what this information would yield. “Who, what? I’m not a fan of this word game.” Geralt washed the same plate three times over, as it was the last dish._ _

__“Who did this to me.”_ _

__Geralt paused, turning off the faucet and thinking genuinely for a moment, spinning around and leaning on the counter casually. “Probably hunt him down and do to him as he did to you, without the unsavory bits of course.” He nodded his head, satisfied with his answer and went back to attentively wash nothing._ _

__“That’s what I thought you’d say.”_ _

__“Is that a problem for you? I’d like to think you’d enjoy that.”_ _

__Jaskier stomped his foot and charged towards him, whirling Geralt around roughly by the shoulder and taking the plate from his hands. “I don’t know how many fucking times I have to tell you this, I’m an ADULT! I don’t need someone at my disposal to hunt people down and most certainly not someone constantly worrying about me! I’ve taken care of myself my entire life, I don’t need anyone!” In a blistering fit of emotions, Jaskier hurled the soapy plate at the wall to his left with a scream._ _

__The larger man stared at the broken shards of teal porcelain and sighed. He took Jaskier by the shoulders and pulled him into a hug, saying nothing as he felt his shirt grow wet and Jaskier start to shake._ _

__“You remind me so much of myself.” Jaskier looked up at him, confused. “So convinced you don’t need anyone, that all there’s left to do is make it true.” He leaned into his ear, “No one’s ever really alone.”_ _

__He sniffled, “Where’d you come up with that?”_ _

__Geralt smiled at him and pulled him closer, “A friend let me in on the idea.”_ _

__They stood like that for a moment, holding one another and swaying back and forth slightly so their legs didn’t grow tired. Jaskier’s tears finally ran dry and he unraveled himself from Geralt’s comforting grip. He wiped his eyes, “I’m gonna go take a shower, ok?”_ _

__“Thank the Gods. Don’t hit me! I’m sorry- ow!” They both laughed, Geralt watching Jaskier walk off and looking away finally when the door closed._ _

__He used this spare time to finally change his clothes, still wearing yesterday’s without realizing and making a face at the sight of himself in the reflection of a drying pan. Out of habit, Geralt stuck his arm out of the open window and felt around for the weather. It was the one hot day of September. Riffling through the hall closet, he pulled out the same pair of jeans in a different color and a plain black t-shirt. His wardrobe consisted of virtually the same things in a variety of cuts and colors depending on the weather and event._ _

__Whilst he was changing in the middle of the living room, the bathroom door swung open, Geralt standing there shirtless and staring at Jaskier like a deer in the headlights.__

  
He tried his best to keep his mouth from falling open, but Jaskier was mesmerized. _“Oh my fucking GODS. I didn’t know a person could look like that? How many abs are there? Two, four, six- this man has an eight-pack holy MOLY. Shit I’m staring, ok back up to the eyes and open your mouth in three, two-“ _Only Jaskier didn’t say anything.__

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____Geralt pulled the shirt over his head and looked at Jaskier with his head dropped to the side, he knew why he was being gawked at and didn’t care to comment. “Everything all right over there?”_ _ _ _

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____“I- um, yeah! Everything’s just peachy, nothing wrong at all. Would you look at that, I’m making a puddle on the floor! Let me just- go get dressed. Yes, get dressed.” He turned on his heels, quickly trying to conceal a blush and closed the bedroom door behind him._ _ _ _

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____Geralt waited patiently in the living room, kicking small piles of mess towards the garbage and occasionally flexing his muscles at his reflection. “Still got it.” He whispered to himself. “Can you move any slower?” Geralt yelled through the closed door, tapping his foot on the floor with crossed arms._ _ _ _

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____Jaskier reappeared after a series of small, though lengthly, heart-palpitations. His feelings for Geralt were strong and it would be a terrible lie to say he hadn’t imagined the sight several nights a week. To be faced with his bare chest, in his own house nonetheless, stirred something within him he knew ultimately to be a terrible idea. Jaskier couldn’t kiss him, he knew this, but that didn’t stop the desire._ _ _ _

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____He slowly made his way to the front door, not breaking eye contact with Geralt, “Oh I’m sorry, do we have somewhere to be?” He purposefully fumbled putting his shoes on, tying the laces with no sense of urgency out of spite._ _ _ _

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____“Yes, actually we do.”_ _ _ _

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____He gasped dramatically, clasping his hands together and holding them to his chest,“Are you finally taking me out to eat? I could kill for some free food right about now.”_ _ _ _

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____“I just made you-“ Geralt sputtered and groaned, meeting him at the door and opened it, scowling, “No, we’re going food shopping. If I have to make another pancake I might throw up.”_ _ _ _

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____“That’s my job.”_ _ _ _

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____“Get in the fucking car.”_ _ _ _

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____“Have I ever told you how much of a gentleman you are? You’d think with such a menacing appearance-“ Jaskier’s voice trailed off as he walked down the front steps, not looking back and talking with his hands._ _ _ _

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____Taking Jaskier food shopping was like bringing a child to a toy store. Pulling things off of almost every shelf, most holding no nutritional value beyond sugar or sodium, touching virtually everything he saw, dancing if he had to stand still for longer than a few seconds. Geralt didn’t protest, but occasionally raised a parental brow at some of the things Jaskier insisted should go in the cart._ _ _ _

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____“Do we really need two packets of cookies?” Geralt stared at him, leaning on the cart with his elbows._ _ _ _

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____Jaskier nodded furiously, “One for you, one for me. Sharing is caring Geralt, hasn’t anyone told me that?” He patted him on the shoulder and tossed them both in the cart, ignoring the grunts of ill-hid judgement._ _ _ _

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____Geralt watched him prance around the store with a smirk on his face, encapsulating and saving for later the sight of him sober and happy. Jaskier looked to him, completely oblivious to his gaze, holding up a bottle of orange juice, “How do you feel about pulp? Personally I hate the fucking stuff but if you- are you listening?”_ _ _ _

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____“Hm?”_ _ _ _

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____“Course not. Pulp or no pulp?”_ _ _ _

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____“I don’t like orange juice.”_ _ _ _

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____He returned the bottle to the shelf and huffed back to the cart. “We’ve leaving.”_ _ _ _

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____Geralt started to walk, Jaskier staring at him with insolent shock. He nudged him, trying to get him to lighten up only to be met with an annoyed scoff. Geralt raised a brow and started to chuckle, “Are you alright?”_ _ _ _

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____“I’m going to have to reconsider this whole roommate situation. Who doesn’t like orange juice? What’s wrong with you?” They stood in line, Jaskier aggressively whispering. Orange juice was his favorite drink, next to beer of course. “There’s nothing wrong with it; there’s tang, sweetness, it’s perfectly refreshing!” He counted the things he listed on his fingers, shaking three in his face._ _ _ _

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____“There’s nothing special about it,” He looked forward and started to line their haul on the conveyer belt, “Cranberry juice is better.”_ _ _ _

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____They argued about this the entire way home, ultimately agreeing to disagree and coming to the determination that grape juice was indeed, the worst. Then came the discussion of which fruit was better, starting a yelling match between the two when it came down to purple and green grapes._ _ _ _

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____“I’m not saying green grapes are for sociopaths! But what I _am _saying is-“ Jaskier picked up three brown bags from the back seat and started in the direction of the house. Geralt closed the car door with his heel and watched Jaskier make his argument (though he wasn’t listening), bags in hand. He smiled, thinking of how much he loved him and shaking his head to save the thought for another day.___ _ _ _

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	11. Scraped Knees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a particularly rough night for Jaskier, Geralt voices more of his concerns and a confession comes about.

Despite it being an off night for Geralt, Jaskier still had to begrudgingly roll himself out of bed at twilight. There was no fun nor effort put into getting himself ready, he pulled on the same clothes as the night before, not caring much of the dried blood under the armpits. His hair was put into place with cold water ladened fingertips, teeth cleaned in a few swigs of mouthwash. He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror and noticed that his dark circles he seemed to have been born with had started to fade. 

He looked at himself, slapping his cheek lightly, “Let’s have a nice night, yeah?” His expression fell somber, these acts of preparation felt like a betrayal of the one he’d come to love. But, bills had to be paid and with one more mouth to feed, he needed any of the cash he could come by. 

Geralt had fallen asleep on the couch, hand still in his package of cookies purchased earlier in the day, the TV playing old reruns of _Blaviken’s Got Talent _. He had tried to defend himself by arguing that it was fun making fun of the contestants, though his clapping whenever someone made it on the show gave him away quite quickly.__

__Jaskier tiptoed out of the bathroom, creeping across the house and made it to the door without so much as a squeak of the wood. The loud click of the lock gave him away, Geralt groaning and slowly opening his eyes with a yawn._ _

__“Where are you going?” He said groggily, not bothering to sit up._ _

__“Work.”_ _

__Geralt groaned and looked him in the eyes, piercing amber iris’s eliciting a heavy feeling of guilt in Jaskier’s gut, “Be careful, please.”_ _

__He turned to leave, poking his head in before closing the door fully, “I will, promise.”_ _

__Truthfully, he knew that he had no real choice in the matter. Jaskier absorbed the cool evening air into his skin like a drug, fingers wrapped around a half lit cigarette. He sang to himself bits of gibberish and skipped into the alleyway so familiar to him, white SUV pulled into the corner and waiting for him patiently. The other stared at him whilst he climbed inside, bits of scattered judgement and jealousy mixed in their gazes._ _

__Jaskier flicked the cigarette butt out of the window and hooded his eyes, taking on the persona he had begun to not recognize. “Aren’t we eager tonight? You’re never this early.” His eyed flicked down to the stack of money sitting in the cup holder, consisting of hundreds rather than twenties._ _

__“I’ve got an idea.” The man behind the sunglasses followed his line of sight and grabbed him by the chin, forcing eye contact. “I’ll pay you anything you want, how long do you have?”_ _

__He had the opportunity to say no, to get and out and go back home or find a handful of others to make up the lost cash. Jaskier looked at his face, partially hidden in the dark and back to the money. “However long you need.”_ _

__The man smiled, stark white veneers illuminating the car. He let go of Jaskier’s face and handed him the money, giddy from the quick agreeance. He fiddled with his belt buckle and Jaskier faded away into the back of mind, another person taking over his body, the guilt slipping right along with him._ _

__His knees hurt. His face hurt. His throat hurt._ _

__But he walked home anyway, avoiding the bar for the first time in a long time. He wasn’t sure if his body could handle anything at the moment anyway. Swallowing anything but water seemed to be an impossibility, his stomach turning into knots with every step he took. The front door was unlocked when he reached it, making him immediately tense._ _

__“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice was scratchy, “Is everything all right?” He looked around the house, the scent of lemon and window cleaner pushing his stomach to it’s limits. The typical pile of newspaper and crumpled papers were replaced with garbage bags and neat stacks of bills. “Did you- did you clean the house?”_ _

__Geralt was in the bathroom, bleaching the toilet and completely out of earshot. He was in his own world, trying to do something, anything, to fill the time that Jaskier was gone. Soon after he left to do, whatever he did, Geralt found himself unable to sleep and anxious to the point of nausea. There was the period of pacing, walking himself up and down the lengths of the house to expend the nervous energy. When that did nothing, he started to collect the random bottles and bits of glass that passed as decor for so long. That’s when he noticed the dirt under the couch._ _

__Not long after that, he was knee deep in random scraps of paper, washing the windows and mirrors and organizing the fridge. The house smelled of a home decor store and pine._ _

__He poked his head out of the bathroom, rubber gloves up to his elbow that he found in one of the cabinets, “Do you know how many dirty napkins and band-aids I found? You live like a goddamn teenager.”_ _

__“It’s two o’clock in the morning!” He tried to yell, his voice giving out halfway. Jaskier walked to the kitchen and started to drink from the tap, turning around and immediately facing a wary-eyed Geralt._ _

__“The fucks wrong with your voice?”  
Jaskier looked away, opening his mouth to try and come up with a delicate way to phrase it, only to come up blank._ _

__A knowing silence passed between them. Geralt looked him up and down, sighing and disappeared back into the bathroom. He reappeared with first-aid kit in hand and pointing to the couch without a word. Jaskier complied, too tired to argue and frankly grateful to sit down._ _

__Geralt waited patiently as he rolled up his pants, Jaskier’s knees a bright shade of pink with small scrapes, rubbed almost raw. Geralt clenched his jaw and applied the antiseptic, ignoring the groans and sharp inhales that came from beside him. His head was empty, anger pulsing through his now shaking fingers as he tried to apply the bandages over the broad scrapes._ _

__Jaskier cleared his throat, speaking in a firm whisper. “I know that look. That’s the ‘I can’t believe you’d do this’ look. It’s the judgement and the misunderstanding and the disgust. I knew it’d happen eventually, I know how you probably feel about me. It’s ok, I don’t blame you; I’m used to it by now. See- you won’t even look at me right now, probably for the best though. You’ve already seen me a cry a bit too much anyway.”_ _

__“You’re not the one I’m disgusted with.”_ _

__Jaskier ignored him and continued, speaking more to the air than Geralt. “You know, I think sometimes about how I ended up here; how this became my life. I wanted to be a musician you know? Yeah, I wanted to be in a band and travel the world. Now I’m stuck in this fucking city drinking myself blind and letting some rich prick fuck me until I’m black and blue. How’s that happen to someone hm?” He got off the couch and coughed, pacing back and forth in front of Geralt. “Then you come along and fuck up my whole ‘self destructive tendencies’ bit I had going on. Don’t look so surprised Cowboy! All of a sudden there was this man in my life that, though was a bit of a dick, seemed to want to keep my around! And look at us now, living together and for the first time since middle school I have a friend. How fucking sad is that?”_ _

__Geralt stood up, debating whether or not a hug would push him over whatever edge he was dancing on. “If it makes you feel any better, you fucked up my self destruction too.”_ _

__“That does actually help a little bit.” Jaskier wiped his face hard with the backs of his hands and looked into Geralt’s eyes. “I know I can’t just drop dead anymore. But look at me, what else do I have going on?” He stood, defeated._ _

__Geralt hesitated for a beat, “You’re supposed to ask for help. It’s killing me to watch you try and kill yourself everyday. I don’t care if he does it,” The mention of the man made Geralt’s heart skip a beat in an immediate rage. “Or if you drink until you’re on the floor.” He reached out and shook him by the shoulders, “You can’t do this to yourself anymore. Please, let me help you.”  
The sight of what he’d done to Geralt made Jaskier’s stomach fall into his feet. He had to get out, get away from the reality of his actions facing him with dimmed eyes and parted lips. Never before had he seen Geralt so broken, not even buried in his lap facing demos of his own. _ _

__“I need to lay down, we can talk about this tomorrow.” Jaskier attempted a look of reassurance and walked past him, Geralt catching him by the wrist._ _

__He spoke slowly, trying his best not to cry in anger, “You might not have that long.” Jaskier tore his arm away and stomped towards the bedroom, peeling off his shirt with trembling hands._ _

__Geralt followed close behind, closing the door gently and watching him climb into bed without a word. The staring made Jaskier feel uncomfortable, unclean. Geralt didn’t know what to do with him, halfway between a friend and lover with the temperament of a disgruntled teenager. He could no longer sit by idly and clean up the mess at the end of the party. It was clear to him now that Jaskier would never help himself if he didn’t understand that he had something to lose._ _

__“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to let me sleep?” Jaskier’s voice faded in and out._ _

__“I’m not leaving.”_ _

__“The fuck you are, I’m not going to be to judged in my sleep. I get enough of that when I wake up in the morning.”_ _

__Geralt sat down next to him on the bed, hands between his knees. “If you think me wanting you to do something, _anything _else to keep you alive then call it whatever you want. And before you fucking yell at me again, I know you’re a grown man and can handle yourself,” He turned and looked at him, “But have you ever considered that men need help too?”___ _

____Jaskier sighed and sat up, rubbing his temples in a defeated silence. He was right, he knew it. “Do you have any idea how guilty I feel dragging you into this? I don’t put myself out there because I _enjoy _it, at least not anymore. It’s the only thing I know how to do that pays well enough to keep me, us, comfortable.” He gestured to the room around them with weak arms. “A few cuts and bruises mean nothing.” He lied.___ _ _ _

______“If you needed another job all you had to do was ask. Renfri’s great with that kind of thing.” Geralt took off his shoes and slid next to him over the covers, pulling him in close with an arm wrapped around his shoulders. “You’re not alone anymore, I told you that already.” He laughed to himself, “But of course, you don’t listen to me.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“When have I ever?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Exactly.” They laughed and sat in silence, the clock ticking to two a.m. and tiredness setting into them both._ _ _ _ _ _

______Geralt looked down at him, “What are you thinking about? You’re staring at me.” He leaned in hesitantly, kissing him on the forehead. “I know you’re thinking about something, I can smell it.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Jaskier smacked him on the chest and fell onto his back, “Nothing, it’s stupid.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Never stopped you before.” Geralt laid down with him and looked up at the ceiling, determined to see whatever he did. “I mean it, tell me.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“It’s just,” Jaskier swallowed hard and spoke quietly. “People like me don’t end up with men like you.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Geralt cocked and eyebrow and looked over at him, “And since when did you care about rules like that?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Since I started to fall in love with you.”_ _ _ _ _ _


	12. Cold Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The confession goes unspoken about and old habits make way for new connection.

Neither quite knew what to do with that. 

The moment it slipped from between Jaskier’s lips he knew he should have kept it inside. Things were fine as they were, casual and caring with no hardline commitment expected from either one of them. Free to remain individuals without the pressure of expectations. The lives and autonomy both had experienced all of their lives, only with an emotional component neither knew how to diagnose. They were drawn to one another in a way wholly unfamiliar, an admittance of love falling heavy on ears used to hearing only the sound of a goodbye. 

So, with September fading into October, they returned to their lives before, a skinny love only known from one half of a two paged book with an ending unbeknownst to all. 

Geralt kept to himself on the couch, making breakfast over small-talk and going to work the same as he had before. Neither confirming nor denying mutual feelings and holding Jaskier close when the moment felt right. Jaskier’s absence was noted at the bar, ears still perking up at the rushed open of the door and turning down when a flurry of college kids took up his empty place. His shifts were dull without him, though his heart held less worry. 

Jaskier’s job had skidded to a comfortably slow pace, avoiding the white SUV and shaded face for those that paid a percent of the pain he had gotten so used to. His pockets fell flatter than he would’ve liked, but choosing to walk home in the same shape he left held a certain sweetness that he’d forgotten he missed. 

Though tonight was nothing that he had experienced before. 

The guilt, the pit in his stomach growing at the touch of the man stroking his face and kissing his lips in a way that reminded him far too much of the one he left at home. His hair was a bright blonde, hanging just below his shoulders with blue eyes that cut him like a knife. In another world, it might as well have been Geralt on top of him. 

There was something wrong with this, unable to open his eyes in fear of seeing Geralt’s look down at him. This was not how he wanted it to be, how he wanted to feel. The images flashing through his mind with each motion reminded him of a step he was unwilling to take. 

It was being robbed from him in this moment. 

“I have to go, I- I can’t do this.” Jaskier pulled away, taking the money and walking out into the chill of night like a cold hug. The man didn’t protest or dare try and go after him, too stunned at the sudden departure to do a thing besides stare as he disappeared in the dark. 

Jaskier stopped at a liquor store on the way home, the cashier knowing him quite well. He walked, eyes barely open, feet knowing the way, to the beer section and picked up a six-pack of whatever caught his eye first. The cashier watched him, surprised to see him after such a long time and rang him up without saying a word. 

“Long time no see Triss.” 

“Jaskier.” She put the case into a black plastic bag and took the roll of cash from his hands. “Nice to see you, how’s it going?” Triss reached out to give him the change, her hand being pushed right back. 

He took the bag and nodded his thanks, “I’ve been better, I think. Keep the rest, you deserve it.” She smiled sadly, hearing the door open and fall closed.

Geralt was still at work when he opened the door and moved in a frenzy to get the bottle opener. He had to forget, had to feel something other than this overwhelming weight that he had done something wrong; the only salve being drinking until he couldn’t remember anything at all. 

So he did. 

Laying on the cold linoleum of his kitchen floor, watching the ceiling rock back and forth. Beer mostly finished in hand, he reached out to grab the next from the case and groaned to find it empty. He looked to his right at the graveyard of brown glass, the shadow of his silhouette on the floor. Then to the bottle in his hand with the two small sips coalescing at the bottom, debating whether or not he’d like to admit that he really finished the whole thing. He placed it down upright in the group of others, proving to himself that such self-restraint existed in his bones. 

Geralt opened the front door and clicked on the lights, flinching at the loud moaning that came from the next room. He took off his jacket and walked quickly to the source of the sound, eyes widening at the sight of Jaskier, “Are you alright?” He knelt down and looked around for a wound, eyes falling on the empty case. “Fuck.” 

Jaskier squinted his eyes against the harsh light, smiling at the sight of Geralt, “Well hello stranger, long time no see.” He reached out a hand and twirled his white hair around his finger, “Have you done something different? Shiny…” His voice was slurred and far too loud for their proximity. 

He sighed, reaching an arm under Jaskier to prop him up against the cabinets. “What the fuck happened?” 

“So blunt! Can’t a lad just have a good time?” 

“Not after you’ve been sober this long you can’t.” Geralt wasn’t amused, worry creeping across his face. “What happened?” 

Jaskier sat still and stared at him, they hadn’t been this close weeks. He wanted to savor it, the way his face truly looked rather than the face it reminded him of. He squirmed, the memory of what led him here to begin with coming back in small blurs. The bottle with its few drops came into focus, his arm reaching out past Geralt to get the last bit. 

He smacked the bottle away, catching Jaskier’s line of sight and determined to keep his focus, or what was left of it. Geralt dropped his voice low, scanning Jaskier’s body for any indication of an unseen injury. “That fucker didn’t touch you again did he?” 

Jaskier scoffed, waving his hand, “No! I was just a little thirsty-“ He leaned forward, smacking his lips and reaching out for the bottle, the last two sips dripping onto the floor. He groaned, “Oh come on! That was such good beer!” He smacked Geralt’s chest, intending to do some kind of harm but his wrist fell weak. “You’re always ruining my fun.” 

“I’m sorry I don’t let you drink yourself to death, my apologies.” 

“Here we go with the death again!” He threw his arms in the air, smacking them dramatically against his thighs. “Perhaps I _am _just thirsty.”__

__“Thirsty people drink the orange juice their friends got them in the fridge.” Geralt dropped his head to the side, his concern showing through a small smile rather than a scowl. “Did something happen? I know how you drink by now and it’s never without reason.”_ _

__He felt horrible and unraveled; Jaskier’s sober emotions mixing with his tongues drunken straightforwardness. “He looked like you. Too much like you.” On any other day, alcohol omitted, that would have never come to light. Staying dead and buried along with him to save himself from the discomfort._ _

__Geralt for a moment forgot what Jaskier did for a living and looked at him stupefied. It hit him suddenly, “Oh.”_ _

__“Oh is fucking right.”_ _

__They didn’t look at each other for a while, sitting on the kitchen floor with the possibility of what it would be to do it for real passing through the air. Geralt personally didn’t think much of the scenario, it more struck him that it hadn’t happened already than Jaskier seeing him in someone else. Though, he had to admit to himself that it was strange._ _

__Jaskier looked over to him with the increasing desire to separate the man he loved from the one with the black hair. In a rush of emotion, he turned Geralt’s head by the chin with nervous fingers, eyes falling to his lips and leaning forward to fill the gap between them. A hand came forward, strong and gentle, to push him back to where he was seated. Geralt remained under his light grip, relishing in the contact after the time spent apart.  
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__“Not like this.” He whispered, keeping the eye contact steady. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, if anything, there was nothing but the cloud of booze keeping him away. But if there’s one thing he learned from his time at Renfri’s, it was that the drunk are meant to be looked after, not used._ _

__The smaller man nodded, embarrassed and tired._ _

__Geralt cracked his neck to break the tension and looked at the clock, “I think it’s time we get you to bed.”_ _

__“I’m alright staying here,” He slapped the floor, “It’s nice and cold.”_ _

__“The fuck you are, you’ll be in my way in the morning.” Geralt stood up and scooped Jaskier into his arms, the man weighing almost nothing to him. “Besides, you shiver too much when you sleep.”_ _

__Jaskier was helpless in his arms and didn’t care to protest. Happily, he kicked down the bedroom door with a laugh at the sound it made. Geralt dropped him gently on the bed, making sure not to shake his head too much lest he had cleaning up puke to his checklist._ _

__“I’m going to step out so you can put on your pajamas, ok?” Geralt stood over him and spoke slowly, watching Jaskier move his head to each syllable as if he were deaf._ _

__He kicked his shoes off and crawled into fetal position, “You can’t just do it for me?”_ _

__“No.” Geralt lied, holding his tongue with a firm grip._ _

__Jaskier sighed and sat up, groaning as the alcohol made his stomach bunch into knots. Not caring much about the audience, as he’d done much more with much less liquid courage, he peeled off his shirt, arched his back to take off his pants and slid back under the covers without a second glance in Geralt’s direction._ _

__The larger man stood still, eyes placed widely on the floor and unsure whether he should do the same or leave for the couch. Instead, he cleared his throat and went to the bathroom to wash off his own work day; determined not sleep in jeans for another night._ _

__By the time he came back to check on Jaskier, hair dripping wet and bedclothes on, he was laid out on his back snoring like a beast. Geralt couldn’t help but laugh, leaning against the door frame and wondering once again what he was to do with him._ _

__Jaskier snored so loud after a few moments of being watched that he woke himself up, looking around the room and catching Geralt’s eye._ _

__“Do you do that every time I sleep?” He groaned, adjusting the pillow and flipping onto his side._ _

__Geralt walked to what was now “his side” of the bed and laid down over the blanket, “Do what?”_ _

__“Stare at me like a creep.”_ _

__He leaned in closer, whispering, “Maybe I do, you’re very entertaining.” Jaskier reached out a hand, pushing his face away and laughing into the sheets. Geralt shivered, “Your hands are freezing!” He grabbed the one attached to his face and squeezed it in an attempt to warm it up._ _

__Jaskier, walking on the veil of sleep, snorted. “Do something about it then.”_ _

__Half-expecting the statement to go ignored, Jaskier’s eyes opened up almost fully at the feeling of Geralt lifting the covers on his side of the bed and joining him the the middle. He tried his best to act like it was no big deal, the haze around his head serving as perfect cover to the hummingbird that became of his heart. Geralt reached out an arm and wrapped it around his back, pulling him close to his chest._ _

__“Is that ok?” His voice was quiet, chin resting on the top of Jaskier’s head. “I can go if you want me to.”_ _

__Jaskier closed his eyes, the heat radiating off of Geralt’s body defrosting his skin, “And give up the best space heater in New Cintra? Nice try Cowboy.”_ _

__He laughed, chest shaking Jaskier’s head, “That might be one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me.” Rather than a response, he felt the vibration of a snore reverberate off of his chest, tickling him. He suppressed a laugh and looked down at Jaskier, savoring the feeling of keeping him safe from the world in his ams._ _


	13. Living in the Daylight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt, being the emotionally constipated man he is, unveils his feelings under the impression that Jaskier is asleep.

They slept completely intertwined. Arms draped across faces, legs tangled together beneath the sheets. At sunrise, Geralt served as the mattress rather than the large open spaces surrounding him; His arm latched to Jaskier’s back, his legs locked securely around Geralt’s hips. Long white hair fanned the pillows, blocking Jaskier’s eyes from the sun streaming in through the windows. The house was cold, October seeping her way through the thin walls and wrapping her fingers around the tips of toes. 

Neither stirred nor complained, it was the most comfortable either had been in months. 

Geralt opened his eyes, using his free hand to block the incoming light that was rendering him blind. He looked down and came mouth first with hair, spitting out the sweaty honey-brown tendrils and kissing the top of his head, now warm from the sun.

“You’re very poised, I should take you to cotillion.” He laughed at his own joke but remained still, afraid of waking the koala on top of him and ruining his much needed sleep. 

Geralt stared up at the ceiling, counting the beats of Jaskier’s heart and unconsciously matching the pattern of their breathing. With a snore and a mutter, he shifted, kicking his way off of Geralt and landing on his side with one arm reached out to touch his chest; now unable to go more than a moment with assuring he was still there. 

He watched him fondly, for someone who talked so often, Jaskier was quite the graceful sleeper. His lips slightly parted for the low sounds of snores to escape, eyelashes meeting with his dark under-eyes, streaks of rosy pink painting his cheeks and the tip of his nose. Had he been any younger, he could be mistaken for a cherub. 

Geralt smiled, brushing Jaskier’s face with the back of his knuckles gently, “How anyone could hurt you I’ll never know.” He paused, “How you could hurt yourself is completely beyond me.” Geralt stopped to appreciate the comforting silence the room possessed. No car horns, no yelling from street corners; just Jaskier, him and the sheets, He sighed, “If only you saw what I see.” Geralt shook his head and watched a dream take over his face, a small smile creeping into the corners and disappearing with the next breath. 

The sleeping one then grumbled, eyes and nose crinkling up as if challenging what was said. Geralt took this as such and froze, in fear that he had woken him up and his time with Jaskier’s subconscious would end. He hoped that by talking when he couldn’t reply, his words would come back in times of doubt. 

“Now what I see,” Geralt traced his fingers around Jaskier’s hips, being careful not to tickle. “Is one of the funniest people I’ve ever met. Even though sometimes I want to shove a sock in your mouth. Thank Gods you’re not awake or else that’d go straight to your head.” He smiled, “I also see the only person who’s ever willingly eaten a crumb of anything I’ve made.” There was beat spent cringing at the burnt pancakes he made those weeks ago. “It goes without saying by the way that I find you incredibly attractive, it’s quite difficult to look at you some days because of those icicles you’ve got in your head.” He tapped the space between Jaskier’s eyebrows gently, “You're seeing into my soul every time, I know it.” He thought for a moment, staring at where open eyes should be. Geralt sat up to pull the hair away from his neck, combing it out gently with his fingers and staring straight ahead, “It’s nice to know that someone else knows what’s going on up there.” He paused, biting his lips with a moments hesitation, whispering the words that came to his head in hopes Jaskier could still hear him, “I love you for that and everything else. My love for you has no strings attached, I love you for free.” 

There was a sniffle, the cracking of a tired voice emerging from his side, “Really?” 

Geralt didn’t flinch, unafraid of the truth he had let out into the room, “How long have you been listening?” He laid back down to face him, throwing an arm over Jaskier’s hips, scratching the small of his back. 

“Long enough to hear everything you love about me.” 

Geralt rolled his eyes, “You’re going to remind me of that everyday now, aren’t you?” 

“I’m glad you know.” He blinked his eyes rapidly, the rising sun immediately causing a headache in his temples. Geralt watched this and immediately climbed over him, forcing Jaskier to take his place in the bed and using his back to block the sunlight. He laid, surprised, “I was just going to close my eyes and talk like a blind mouse, but that works too.” 

“I’m not making you hangover breakfast _again _, I’d rather get a shitty suntan.”__

__Jaskier snorted, regretting it instantly, “Brave words from a man who cooks paperweights.”_ _

__“Paperweights which you ate.” He tapped the tip of Jaskier’s nose, the pink fading now into a dull spot. “Quite quickly if I may add.”_ _

__“It was a pity plate.”_ _

__“That you finished!”_ _

__They both chuckled, making sure to keep it down as to not worsen the already building hangover. Jaskier looked up at him, brushing a lock of silver hair away so he could look at him fully, “Did you mean everything you said before, when you thought I wasn’t listening?”_ _

__“Not a word of it- hey don’t swing those hands at me, it was a joke!” Geralt grabbed both of the wild hands into one of his own, bringing the knuckles to his lips, soft skin contrasting to his stubble, “I’d still like to know which part you’re confused about.”_ _

__Jaskier pulled his hands away and leaned up on his elbow, “I just want to hear the last part again.” He tiled his head to the side to make it seem like more of a question and less of a subtle demand._ _

__Geralt leaned in close, lips to his ear and repeated himself in a low whisper, “My love for you has no strings attached, I love you for free.” He pulled back, scanning Jaskier’s face for the hint of a tear or smile. Instead, he found himself staring at his lips; noting the soft curves and near perfect symmetry with the rest of his face. Jaskier watched him stare, taking the time to study Geralt with in a way he could previously conjure in his head._ _

__The larger man leaned in first, taking Jaskier gently by the jaw and pausing as their noses met in the middle, “Is this alright?” He looked into his eyes, heart skipping a beat to find Jaskier already watching him._ _

__“I love you.”_ _

__“I love you too.”_ _

__Their fingertips lit up at the touch of the other, hands in hair and fingers caressing cheeks with bits of electricity from the heart. It had been a culmination of months of loneliness. Nights spent in corners, back of cars, wondering when and where life would come and do for them what it had done for others. Some wish for a promotion, signing the mortgage for a house, a breakout opportunity. They had found in one another the most complicated desire of them all._ _

__To love and more than that be loved in return. Unequivocally, without hesitation, for all that is good, bad and otherwise. Such a rare circumstance blooming after months of dormancy in the weeds of past doubts and pain unrealized._ _

__In these twelve hours of shared space, a life long wall crumbled to a fine dust. They had reserved themselves for a moment such as this, walking through life as though the other-shoe would drop, rendering them pinned and left to die. The moment had come, with no need to wear a helmet. The training wheels had come off, paralleled heartbeats and bare chests taking their place._ _

__There was no time for pain in the sheets of this bed under the heat of a forgiving October sun._ _

__Jaskier pressed his forehead to Geralt’s, catching his breath with closed eyes. He felt the stare through his lids and smiled. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you to do that, Cowboy.”_ _

__“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted the opportunity.” Geralt flicked his wrist, mimicking a bow, “Hopefully it’s one that can present itself soon.”_ _

__“I think I see another one coming right now.” Jaskier leaned in again, kissing the corners of Geralt’s mouth. “You wouldn’t want to miss out.”_ _

__They spent an hour like that, locked around the neck and mouth, expressing in small kisses and caresses what was too sweet to say in words. Geralt had let his guard down, opening himself up in a way that made him push pass the stoicism he had so associated with himself. Unveiling a series of emotions and sensations he had thought were lost to him for so long._ _

__He pulled away, making Jaskier whine. “I can’t live in the dark anymore.”_ _

__“You’re really a flair for the dramatic aren’t you?” Jaskier poked his chest and smiled, only to furrow his brows when he realized Geralt didn’t smile with him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”_ _

__“My job, your job, I don’t think we can carry on for much longer hidden from everyone like this.” He sighed, second guessing himself. Jaskier rubbed his shoulder, encouraging him to continue. “We can’t do this for the rest of our lives. I want to experience life like a normal person, not sleeping all day like a goddamn vampire.”_ _

__“I mean vampires are quite hot, historically speaking.”_ _

__“Jaskier.”_ _

__“Sorry.”_ _

__He cupped his hand on Jaskier’s cheek, rubbing the corner of his jaw gently, “I have something I want to see now, something worth waking up for. I’d like to be in love in the daylight, not grasping for time exhausted and annoyed.”_ _

__Had the hangover not required all of his energy, the man would’ve wept. He leaned into the touch gently, eyes misting over, “I like the sound of that.”_ _

__“I’m sure you do.”_ _

__“Do you remember what I said to you the first night that you got here?” He used Geralt’s knuckles to wipe a tear gathering in one of his eyes._ _

__“Hm.” Geralt looked up, thinking back to what he had considered then to be one of the worst days of his life. In hindsight, he thought of it as one of the best. “I don’t believe I do, but I’m sure you’d tell me even if I did.”_ _

__Jaskier laughed to himself and grabbed Geralt’s cheeks, squeezing gently, “I said that I was a sweet treat, a fucking _delight _to be around.” He rolled his eyes and shook the hands from his face, a pointed finger replacing them. “Now I don’t know much about magic, but ever since then we’ve been virtually inseparable.” Jaskier clapped his hands together to solidify the point. “You’ve fallen for a magician, how sexy is that?”___ _

____“It’s a small house.”_ _ _ _

____“I’m a wizard.”_ _ _ _

____Geralt laughed and kissed him again, stretching himself out to sit up, “Fine then Merlin, conjure us some lunch, I’m starved.”_ _ _ _

____His ears perked up, “Lunch?”_ _ _ _

____“Oh fuck-“_ _ _ _

____Jaskier came up on his knees, wistfully swirling his arms around as if casting a spell, “I command thee, handsome man in my bed, to take me to get some wings like you promised two months ago!”_ _ _ _

____Geralt got up from the bed and retreated to the bathroom, yawning, “If you’re dressed by the time I’m done, I’ll even add in dessert.”_ _ _ _

____“Oh fuck yes!” Jaskier jumped up and ran to the closet, taking no time to start a clean pile on the floor. “I love you!”_ _ _ _

____He stuck his head out from the bathroom, taking a moment to savor the words as they came from his mouth, “I love you too!” He paused, “Don’t make a mess, I just did laundry.”_ _ _ _

____“Too late!”_ _ _ _


	14. Old Story, New Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys take this new step in their relationship with stride, making changes in their lives to better suit the other. Jaskier steps back into an old hobby.

They had found themselves with more free time than they knew what to do with. Not long after they left the restaurant did Geralt decide that hauling people by their collars and hoping they lived to see another day wasn’t for him anymore. It served no real purpose, however, the acknowledgment that one of them needed a job wasn’t lost on him. So, with much bargaining and perhaps a touch of begging, Geralt now worked the day shift at the pub; making similar wages and helping the bar tenders with whatever they needed. A handy-man of sorts, despite barely being able to use a drill. 

For the first time in his life, Geralt for once felt like he had something to wake up for. It was the movement he desired, though to a life he’d never imagined. 

Jaskier had stopped his line of work completely, finding himself unable to continue in a world in which he had to be someone else. This was not a decision made through carefully worded comments or arguments about what he needed to do or begging with loving concern. It went without mention, the bruises fading from his skin in time and cuts healing on their own. 

What he had searched for within strangers he now had in front of him, waking him every morning and kissing him goodnight each evening. 

Roach hummed gently through the streets of their neighborhood, the engine still working as hard as ever despite it’s age. Halloween was just around the corner, porches decorated with carved pumpkins and fallen leaves, their own bearing light-up ghosts that Jaskier insisted on buying. They were tacky, but with how happy they made him, Geralt allowed it. The skeletons were more his taste, though the suggestion immediately got shot down in fear they would scare the children.

“Kids don’t trick or treat around here.”  
“Not with those they won’t!” So in the cart they went, Jaskier affectionally naming the one making a scary face Geralt and the other with a bow after himself. 

The leaves he had yet to rake crunched under the tires when he pulled into the driveway. He sat for a moment, the heat warming his tired hands while he took a moment to stare at the house. The bright yellow had begun to fade, another job to be added to his list. Coming from Jaskier’s newfound clarity, there was a sudden rush to fill the house with everything that it lacked. A new couch, big enough for them both, a set of plates and silverware that matched; there was even talk of a dishwasher. But alas, something was still missing. 

He picked up the newspaper left on the front steps and unlocked the door, pausing just as he was about to come in. There was a sound, a faint strumming coming from just beyond the door. Then came the echo of a hum, followed with words of a song he couldn’t put his finger on. Geralt opened the door slowly and crept in, closing it with a dull click behind him and standing there with a grin on his face.

Jaskier was standing on the coffee table, guitar in hand, singing one of Geralt’s favorite songs in a different key. His eyes were closed, feeling the strings with delicate fingers and swaying gently to the beat he was hellbent on creating. He had never realized until this secret concert how beautiful his voice was; it sounded like the first birdsong of spring, with depth and dimension incomparable to anything he’d heard before. 

The song soon ended, Jaskier hopping off of the table and turning around to get a glass of water from the kitchen, screaming at the sight of Geralt leaning against the threshold. 

“I can understand how this is unnerving now, you’re very quiet.” Jaskier looked him up and down, “I’m surprised.”

“Hm.” He crossed the room and met Jaskier in the middle, running a finger along the neck of the instrument. “I didn’t know you played so well, or even sang for that matter.” 

He nodded, picking at the strings to play the basic cords, shooing Geralt’s hand away, “I’ve been playing since I was a teenager, I wouldn’t call myself a singer though. Just something I do to make sure I’m playing the melody right.”

“What are you talking about, you’re fantastic!” Geralt was astonished that he thought so little of himself. He shuffled past him and sat on the couch, kicking his shoes off and crossing his legs, head propped up on fists. “Play it again, I want to hear it from the beginning.” 

Jaskier hesitated, he had never played in front of anyone before. “I- uh, I guess I could. Don’t yell at me if it’s shit though.” 

“I’ve never yelled at you.” 

“Well THAT’S bullshit.” 

“Play the song, please.” 

It was the “please” that pushed him to continue, sitting across from Geralt on the table, playing the beginning cords with shaky fingers. He tried his best not to look up, afraid that any eye contact would cause his nerves to get the better of him; but he could feel them anyway. Burning into each flick of his fingers and the movement of his lips with each word of the agonizingly slow song. It was hard to convert something so fast-paced into an acoustic piece. He had been working on it while Geralt was at work for over a week now and this was not how he intended on showing him. Though judging from the small smile he caught out of the corner of his eye, it didn’t matter much to him anyway. 

He finished with a dramatic strum of the guitar, lifting it over his head and setting it down gently on the floor. “That’s all, I haven’t worked out the actual ending yet.” He shrugged his shoulders and moved to Geralt’s lap, arms open and inviting. “Hope I didn’t ruin it for you.”

Geralt watched him for a moment, watching the way Jaskier wouldn’t meet his eyes and the subtle blush that crept it’s way onto his ears. He tilted his head up with the tips of his fingers, causing a hitch in Jaskier’s breath, “It’s the best version I’ve ever heard, dare I say it challenges the original.” He whispered. 

He scoffed, “You’re just saying that because you like me.” 

“Let’s get some things straight about that,” Geralt held up one finger, “One, I don’t appreciate being called a liar.” He held up another, “And two, I don’t _like _you- I love you.” He dropped his head to the side, “Or do we need to have that conversion again?”__

__Jaskier spent a silent moment looking at him as he did those months ago. The longing to know him in his entirety now whittled down to wondering what the next year of their lives would bring. Still ever-afraid of being left alone as he had grown so used to, it scared him slightly to think so far ahead. They still had yet to call each other anything beyond their names, those words not quite forming as easily._ _

__“I guess not.” Geralt kissed him on the cheek and reached for the remote, wanting to break the silence and relax after a long day of wearing his body down. “Want to watch a movie?”_ _

__“There’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about.” Jaskier shifted off of his lap and took up the space left on the rest of the couch, legs draped across Geralt’s thighs. His eyes floated around the room, a worry he had been sleeping on coming to the surface. Jaskier sighed, “I don’t think we can live here for much longer.” He looked over to him, “With me not working right now and on only your paycheck, there’s no way we can keep a house; not in this city.”_ _

__Geralt’s thoughts from the car clicked into place, the something missing now fully realized. He tried to act nonchalant as to not overwhelm Jaskier, “Then we’ll live somewhere else. I’m sure there’s a place around here that we’ll like just fine.” He traced light patterns onto Jaskier’s leg, eyes firmly placed on the TV. “Or maybe not, depending on if you can make a cardboard box under the Calanthe bridge homey.”_ _

__Jaskier snorted, “New Cintra is way too expensive, I’m not living in a two thousand dollar closet. I was lucky enough to make due as it is.”_ _

__Geralt put the remote down and turned to him, knowing he’d have to present the plan he had or else they’d be there for days. “How about we move somewhere else. Away from here, far away even.”_ _

__“How far is ‘far’?”_ _

__“As far as you want.”_ _

__He thought about it for a minute, of all the places he wanted to see but never had the will or drive to leave what to him, felt to be a cage. There was a lot of hurt in this house, along with moments of beauty. Though the permeation of his past and memories of ill-spent tempers often left him drowning in a pit of what he soon hoped to forget. Jaskier had out-grown his hideaway, both in family size and in respect for himself._ _

__His eyes lit up, “Rivia?” In comparison to the expansive (and expensive) city, Rivia was incredibly small. A quaint and seemingly tight knit community of people who Jaskier hoped from his dreamlike vision, would embrace them. He had found what he hoped to be true love, so adding a few friends into the mix wouldn’t hurt. He spoke quickly, “Unless you were thinking of something else.”_ _

__“I think Rivia would be perfect.” Geralt took his hand and whirled his fingers around the knuckles. He pictured the town in his mind, having driven through it once before many years ago. They needed the change, to get away from the temptations that he knew one day would come back to haunt them both. Though he enjoyed the noise to keep him company, Geralt wanted nights falling asleep to crickets rather than traffic. “Now comes the question of how we’re going to get there.”_ _

__“You mean we’re not going to strap the couch to the top of the car and leave in the middle of the night?”_ _

__“And just abandon everything else?”_ _

__Jaskier pretended to be deep in a thought, tapping a finger to his chin, “I guess the TV can come too.”_ _

__He laughed, kissing his hand and giving it back to him, “Glad to see where your priorities are.”_ _

__They sat and watched whatever movie on TV that wasn’t deemed too terrible by the sounds they made within the first five minutes; most being turned off after a series of heavy groaning. Eventually settling on a horror movie that ended with Jaskier curled tightly under Geralt’s arm, eyes snapped closed and flinching at any shadow that came over the floor in front of them. For most of his life he’d hated scary things; but he loved Halloween. The holiday spirit overwhelmed him, thus pushing him through it._ _

__Geralt also got became absurdly happy at the suggestion and Jaskier was in no position to deny himself the privilege of seeing him excited._ _

__“I think we should record that next time it’s on, yeah?” He looked down at Jaskier, his face buried in his chest. “You aren’t too scared are you?”_ _

__“No.”_ _

__“Liar,” Geralt turned the TV off, leaving them completely in the dark, “What do you want to do now?” He had meant the question innocently, though quickly realized the possible implications. “We could um-“_ _

__“Dinner?” Jaskier cleared his throat and yawned, pushing away from Geralt’s blanket-like hold._ _

__Geralt crossed his arms, thankful for the dark cloaking the red spots coming over his ears and cheeks. “Dinner! Yes, let’s have some…of that.” They both stood up at the same time, bumping into one another in an attempt to go to the kitchen. Jaskier walked backwards and started to make a tension breaking joke, though unfinished as he tripped on his guitar. Geralt lunged forward, securing one arm around his waist and another catching a flailing hand. Inches from his face, he smiled, “Your grace never alludes me.”_ _

__“Put me down.”_ _

__“As you wish.” He dropped him on the floor, moving the guitar quickly with his foot as not to crush it._ _

__Jaskier leaned up on his elbows, amused, but pissed, “You know what? Just for that we’re eating whatever I want-”_ _

__“So pizza?” Geralt held the phone to his ear, menu in hand. “That’s all you ever want when you say that.”_ _

__From the floor he huffed, “Maybe.”_ _

__“Pepperoni or sausage?” Geralt didn’t take to the whining and waited in an amused silence for the usual answer, mouthing “pepperoni" with the same annoyed inflections as Jaskier._ _

__He laid out on the floor, dramatically draping an arm over his forehead and sighing, “I’m going to lay here until I rot, nay, until I starve to death.”_ _

__“I’m not picking you up again.” They had done this same game of dramatics last night, in which Jaskier played dead and promptly make Geralt’s back crack in four places._ _

__“You’re so fucking mean to me.”_ _

__Geralt put his phone back in his pocket, “And yet,” He met Jaskier on the floor, standing over him with his hands on his hips, “You want to move in with me.” He gestured around the room, “Most likely even closer than we are now.”_ _

__“Oh the horror, I’m stuck with you forever.” Jaskier got himself off of the floor and turned on the lights, “I mean I _suppose _you can stay.”___ _

____Geralt walked over to him, latching his arms around his waist, “Oh can I?”_ _ _ _

____“Mhm.” Jaskier leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, feeling the remaining blush on his lips_ _ _ _


	15. Title and Registration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt gets a call from someone he's almost forgotten about, who reminds him that he's yet to make things official with Jaskier.

The music poured from the car windows, Geralt speeding through the neighborhood and tapping the roof in time to the beat. It had become one of his new favorite daily rituals; coming home from work early after he was no longer needed and spending the afternoon with Jaskier. It was new to him, being able to leave at three in the afternoon rather than three in the morning. The guitar riff playing through Roach’s speakers was cut off at the sound of his ringtone. He looked down at his phone and sneered. 

The number flashing across the screen was new but familiar at the same time, he hadn’t seen it in a while and had almost completely forgotten it’s owner. He pulled over a block from the house and stared at the phone vibrating in the cupholder, thinking of what could come from the other end, ultimately deciding there was no harm in finding out. 

He coughed into his elbow, “Yennefer, long time no see.” 

“Geralt…I didn’t think you’d answer.” Her voice was quiet, almost nervous. It had taken her all week to gather the courage to call him. 

“Can I help you with something?” He opened his mouth to say something else, to sound less abrasive, but he stopped himself. He tried his best to sound concerned, “Is something wrong?” 

“No, everything’s fine. I just-“ She sighed. “Are you free right now? I want to see you, to talk to you.” She stood completely still, heart thumping in her throat.

Geralt thought for a moment, wary of her sudden interest in seeing him after months apart but curious all the same. After how mad she was at him, over a misunderstanding at that, he couldn’t decided if it was worth bringing up again. He could sense the apprehension in her voice and eventually caved, “Yes, I am. But only for an hour, where do you want to meet?” 

It took everything in her not to shriek, “The coffee place on Main?” 

“Fine.” He put the car in drive and turned around in the middle of the street, “I’ll be there in ten.” 

He had tried to avoid this part of the city if he could help it. The gentrified, upper-class lifestyle he had so detested growing up, such a feeling staying with him through adulthood. It felt like another world compared to the one he had seen most days both then and now, one which he had never intended to associate with or become a part of. The delusion didn’t appeal to him, living in a dollhouse never his endgame. 

The coffeehouse smelled of cinnamon and butter when he walked in, warming his hands and the tip of his nose from the cold settling in outside. November had brought with it the first snow of the year. 

Yen was waiting for him at a corner table, looking better than he remembered. Her hair had grown longer, the black ripples falling into waves on her shoulders. She seemed to glow, eyes looking brighter. This time apart had done her well and it showed from the look on her face.

She rose to greet him, smile reaching her eyes when he turned to approach her, “It’s so great to see you, you’re looking well.” Her finger twirled around the end of his hair in a way far too comfortable, “Look at your hair! Have you done something to it?” 

Geralt watched her hands, uncomfortable, “Uh, no- still the same. You’re looking well too.” Yen reached out to give him a hug, he leaned back slightly in nonverbal rejection. She coughed, taking the hint and falling back in her own discomfort. He pointed to the register,“Do you want something to drink?” 

“No I already ordered for us,” Yennefer gestured to the seat opposite of her own and sat down. “But I didn’t ask you to meet me just to get a drink.” Geralt’s eyebrows were furrowed, unfamiliar anxiety cloaking itself as annoyance. “I wanted to talk about us.” 

“Us?” He took the route of repeating her words to get her to elaborate, not wanting to add to the conversation beyond his presence. “You want to talk about us?” Geralt folded his hands and rested them on the wood table, tapping his thumbs together rather than shaking his leg. He was deeply uncomfortable. 

There was no use in hiding it, his face scrunched up at the nose, the idea of there still being a “them” hadn’t crossed his mind once. The sentence marinated in the air, neither party continuing the statement beyond a lack of eye contact. This wasn’t going well and Yen wanted desperately to say her piece before she was shut down. 

“Yeah I do. I’ve been thinking, a lot, about what happened between you and me-“ 

“You mean when you kicked me out without letting me explain myself and never spoke to me again?” Their drinks came, Geralt taking the mug of black coffee without looking away from Yen’s face, taking a sip before checking the temperature. He burned the roof of his mouth. “I never blamed you- _fuck _, but that’s what happened.”__

__She took a slow sip from her latte, nodding her head, “Yes, that is what happened. I know that and I’m sorry for not letting you- well, do much of anything.” She smiled, face quickly turning neutral when Geralt didn’t smile back. “That’s why-“_ _

__He had grown tired of the incomplete sentences, placing the cup down on the table and sighing, “Why what? I hate to be an ass but I don’t have all day” Geralt knew exactly what he was doing. Meeting her so last minute, and not telling Jaskier where he was, made him feel as though he was doing something wrong. The sooner he could get home, the better he would feel._ _

__Yen shoved all of her nerve to the front of her mouth, forcing out the words as quickly as she thought them. “I want us to try again, maybe even have you come back and live with me? I miss you, I miss us. I’ve got my head on straight about the whole thing and I really think we can do it-“_ _

__Geralt raised a hand to stop her, repressing a laugh at the suggestion, “I’m sorry,” He wasn’t, “But that’s not going to happen.”_ _

__She wasn’t surprised, the smallest bit of hope being crushed, “Can I ask why?”_ _

__“I’m seeing someone right now, we’re happy. Really happy actually.” He took another sip of his coffee, reigniting the burn in his mouth. The statement made his hands tremble, he was a very private person; revealing any bit of his life to someone who he now saw to be a stranger was something he never did. Moreso, putting any sort of label on whatever Jaskier and him shared._ _

__“How long have you been seeing her?” Her eyebrow raised, the timeline becoming more important than the rekindling she planned._ _

__He thought for a moment, their relationship was a fluid one with no real start date and he knew he had to speak carefully. “I don’t really know,” He said, unsure of himself. The memories of the last two months swirled around his head, making him chuckle under his breath. “It just kind of happened one day and never stopped.” Geralt took another sip, looking out the window, “He means a lot to me.”_ _

__“He?” Yen connected the dots, Geralt’s lack of friends coming to mind, “It’s not that guy you took out to lunch is it?”_ _

__“Yes, it is.” He looked over to her, protectiveness showing in the drop of his voice and firmness in his tone, “And he has a name, Jaskier. Is that a problem?”_ _

__She crossed her arms, “No, I just didn’t know you were gay.” Yen scoffed and mumbled under her breath, “ _That _would’ve been nice to know.”___ _

____Geralt laughed far too loud for the small cafe, partly in genuine amusement but mostly in irritation. It faded just as he spoke again, voice flat, “Good thing I’m not gay.”_ _ _ _

____Yen was angry, not at him, but herself. She knew she had a one in a million chance at getting Geralt back, his stubbornness and ability to hold a grudge adding to the improbability. What she hadn’t planned on, was him moving on and let alone with a man. There was no room for her to compete or wiggle her way back into his life. There was nothing she could do and it pissed her off, deeply. Yen wasn’t used to losing._ _ _ _

____She took a final sip of her drink, dropping cash on the table and quickly gathering her things, “I’m sorry for wasting your time, clearly everything’s worked out for you.” Yen stood up, Geralt remaining in his seat and watching her silently. “I hope that your boyfriend or whatever knows what to do with you.” She left, mumbling, “I certainly didn’t.”_ _ _ _

____He sat at the table alone, staring into the bottom of his mug and the words repeating themselves in his head. “She called him my boyfriend.” He said to himself, the word not sounding wrong but not quite right either. Geralt’s eyes went wide, “I haven’t called him my boyfriend.” He turned his head to the side, “Does he know we’re dating?” Geralt slammed his mug on the table and stood up, rushing back to his car and fumbling with the keys, “Are we even dating?”_ _ _ _

____That was the question he mulled over (and over, and over) in the car the entire drive back to the house. The radio not denting his deep concentration and road signs becoming a mere suggestion. How he got home in one piece, he had no idea._ _ _ _

____Jaskier was sitting calmly at the kitchen table, flipping blindly through house listings and listening to the someone’s terrible audition to a signing completion he didn’t care to learn the name of. He didn’t look up when Geralt came in, ignored the panting and quickness in the way he walked over to him._ _ _ _

____“You know there’s this really cute house we could get if we-“ He looked up finally, catching the glint of something in Geralt’s eye but ignoring it as well. “If we saved for about a year or so.” He pointed to the chair next to him, eyes still grazing the magazine. “How do you feel about blue shutters?” Geralt didn’t sit in the chair, rather pushed Jaskier’s chair out with his foot, deciding his lap would be better. “Or we could do this, this is fine.”_ _ _ _

____It had actually surprised Geralt how strong he was and bookmarked it for a later date._ _ _ _

____He hung his arms around Jaskier’s neck, staring into his eyes looking for an answer to a question he had yet to ask. “What would you call us?”_ _ _ _

____“Two strapping young men doing everything but sleeping together.” Jaskier’s head fell to the side, disappointed his joke went unappreciated. “Or should I put that more delicately?”_ _ _ _

____“That’s not what I meant.” He leaned in for a kiss, the offer quickly being accepted, “I mean, if you had to give whatever we are a title, what would you say?”_ _ _ _

____Jaskier looked away and thought about it, a finger dramatically tapping his chin, “Significant other? Wait- I can do better. Paramours? Beaus? Partners? Lovers?” He was interrupted with another kiss, Geralt desperately wanting to have a serious conversation for once. Jaskier pulled back, laughing at the confused expression on his face, “Were my suggests that bad? I have more.”_ _ _ _

____“No, I quite liked paramour; but that’s not what I had in mind.”_ _ _ _

____“Fine, then let’s hear you do something better.” He tried his best to cross his arms, Geralt’s own surrounding his neck preventing such a motion._ _ _ _

____He sighed, biting his bottom lip in apprehension, “Now don’t laugh at me-“_ _ _ _

____“Can’t promise that one.”_ _ _ _

____“Shut up.”_ _ _ _

____“Sorry.”_ _ _ _

____Geralt gathered up his courage again, the question seeming more insolent by the second.“As good as those suggests were, and they were just marvelous, I know we’re grown men and it sounds a bit childish-“_ _ _ _

____Jaskier groaned, throwing his back, “If you don’t spit the fucking words out I’m going to throw you off of me like the bag of bricks you are!”_ _ _ _

____“How does ‘boyfriend’ sound to you?” He said it quickly, lest he be interrupted for a third time._ _ _ _

____The man he was using as a chair snapped his head back to attention, eyes wide with surprise and the smallest glint of excitement. “I’ve never had one of those before.”_ _ _ _

____“Neither have I.”_ _ _ _

____They ruminated on it for a minute, both of their pasts unofficially and in-passing with the same sex causing just a moment’s delay. It was new and uncharted territory for them both; Geralt never falling for a man and Jaskier never being fallen over._ _ _ _

____Jaskier smiled awkwardly, voice falling to a whisper, “Well, I guess now we have.” He tapped him on the nose, now finally feeling the numbing sensation surrounding his legs. “And as your first act as my boyfriend, you’ll make me an amputee.”_ _ _ _

____“And as my second, I’ll turn that shit off.” He pointed to the TV and dismounted Jaskier, making him gasp and groan dramatically. Geralt paused, standing with his hands on the back of the couch now absorbed in the show as he so often was. The contestant was accepted and he clapped, pausing with his hands still in the air and turning around._ _ _ _

____“What were you saying again?” Jaskier crossed his legs and raised his eyebrows, looking away to turn his attention back to the magazine. “Do you want me to get up so we can-“ He looked up to find Geralt already on the couch, ignoring him. “Watch it together?”_ _ _ _

____“Hm?” He turned around, annoyed now at being disturbed._ _ _ _

____“Nothing, nothing. Go on and watch your trash without me while I pick out our future home.” Jaskier waved a finger through the air. “But I don’t want to hear any bitching if you don’t like what I find.”_ _ _ _

____“If you like it, I like it.” Geralt turned around, looking at Jaskier against the unforgiving kitchen lightening and appreciating what he had in the moment. “After all, that’s what good boyfriends are for.”_ _ _ _

____Rather than do the same, Jaskier clicked his tongue, “We’re going to have to find a new word, it makes us sound like we’re teenagers.”_ _ _ _

____“I’m glad you said it not me.”_ _ _ _

____They fell asleep that night as they had slowly become accustomed to; without an inch of space between them. Though it had yet to grow less special as the each evening passed. Every morning brought a new appreciation for something different that had gone unrealized before. Such as the morning Geralt discovered the small freckles faded into Jaskier’s cheeks. Or the other when Jaskier noticed that Geralt never grew out facial hair beyond stubble._ _ _ _

____In their newfound title came another step into the others world, though boundaries and emotional roadblocks were nothing familiar to them. There was a level of trust, a comforting acceptance of the others fragility; whether it came to the forefront or not. Though it went against the lives they seemed to live a million nights ago, it had taken a word used by children so freely to cement the truth firmly into place._ _ _ _

____No one was going anywhere anytime soon, the days of being left without a word dead and buried._ _ _ _


	16. Welcome to Rivia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see our boys after a year, life's about to take a big turn for them both

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say that I really enjoyed writing this series and I hope you guys enjoyed reading as much as I did writing!

The year the followed passed in hours, furniture once sprawled like an organized mess condensed into brown boxes; the garden gnomes sending them off with a warm hug. New Cintra faded like a daydream from the rearview mirror, with the wide open road and promise of something new sitting before them. Neither felt the same pull they had years ago, their time spent speeding along with their noses to the ground long gone. 

August had come around again, now with a cooling breeze in the comfort of the suburbs rather than the sweltering humidity they had grown used to. Geralt’s hair thanked him, the locks extending themselves closer to his chest than shoulders. He had been tempted to cut it now and then, Jaskier’s expressive whining and hiding of the scissors stopping such a thing every time. 

The move came faster than either had planned, ripping the band-aid they had glued to themselves clean off.

The catalyst was Jaskier taking up a job teaching guitar to children and teens at a music school not too far into town. It wasn’t something he had never seen himself doing, but enjoyed more than anything he’d ever done before. Children adored him and he found himself caring about them as if they were his own. His skills also proved to be more proficient than even he realized; writing his first song just a week ago. For the first time he felt fulfilled, as though there was something he had to offer beyond his body.

Not long after did Geralt find himself in a similar situation, putting his stature to good use, but amongst a different crowd. Rather than tossing drunks into the night and working until he fell asleep standing up, he protected the children at the local elementary school. Affectionately being called ‘Mr.G’ or ‘Wolfman’ (he had yet to figure out where that came from) the job made him smile rather than sneer. It was also relatively easy, eight year olds were far easier to contain than alcoholics. Sometimes. 

An agreement was made soon after these positions lost their luster that kids weren’t in the cards for them. 

The air was warm as it filled his nostrils, taking in a deep breath of the freshly mowed grass and previews of what was to be a thunderstorm. A small puppy trotted in front of him on a plain black leash; a chocolate lab with floppy ears and the brightest blue eyes. She was Geralt’s pride and joy, replacing his dearly beloved car in name, the original being left to a new owner to afford the downpayment on the house. 

It was a hard goodbye, but a needed one. A new beginning had to come from every angle, even those made of metal and torn leather. He had even shed a tear handing over the keys. 

It’s replacement had become Jaskier’s baby. A yellow door was denied to him during this new move, which had been one of their first fights. Rather than let it put a damper on anything, Geralt had promised him a yellow car if he could find one. Eating his words, they were now the proud owners of a banana colored truck that Jaskier didn’t know how to drive. 

He turned around on the sidewalk, stopping briefly so the dog could do her business. Roach barked when she was done, hopping up in excitement on Geralt’s leg and demanding to be pet with an aggressive wag of her tail. He obliged, smiling, “You’re much better than a car anyway, even if you can’t bark Metallica.” She growled back. “I suppose we can try and teach you.”

The house wasn’t far away, a stone’s throw from the path of their walk, the truck a beacon compared to what surrounded it. Their new neighborhood was something completely out of their elements. It reminded Geralt of a peace and quiet he couldn’t place anywhere in his life. As though he was living someone else’s. It wasn’t a bad thing, which took him months to settle on, just something which he had to grow into, rather than a temporary placement.

He had never seen himself as the settling down type, his own willingness to attempt it consistently befuddling him. Placing down roots with the intention to grow was never his style, now moving to a bigger pot with the addition of love holding him upright.

Roach shook off her collar, her neck still too small, as the front yard came into view. Jaskier had worked for hours to make the landscaping just right; forcing Geralt to come along and pick out flowers which neither could pronounce. 

“What about these?” The memory came back to him. Jaskier standing in the garden department, pointing at a random plot of blue flowers that matched his eyes, “I think these would go with the shutters.” 

He grumbled, “You know everything doesn’t have to match.” 

“But I want it to, unless you’d like to tell me how to pronounce ‘hyacinth’ again.” Jaskier crossed his arms, a smirk creeping across his face. 

Geralt broke eventually, throwing his arms in the air knowing better than to challenge him further, not caring much anyway. “Fine! Fine, have us live in a blueberry.” 

He shook his head with a smile, staring at the mixed bed of hydrangeas which Roach had tore through on multiple energetic mornings. Their house was one of their few mutual decisions. It was small for New Cintra standards, but big enough for just the two of them; and Roach of course. 

It was painted a light shade of gray with sea blue shutters. Reminding him most of the house his mother had wanted so badly when he was a child. A small porch with just enough space for two chairs and a garage which went unused to show off Jaskier’s new baby completed the front; they hadn’t seen a need for much else. They could watch the sunset outside every night, if they stayed awake that long. Oftentimes ending busy days curled against one another on the couch by the time twilight turned the street lights on. 

A crack of thunder shook the windows, scaring Roach and making her rush towards the front door, clawing to get inside. Jaskier heard the scraping and opened it for her, the dog rushing under his feet to hide beneath the bed. He saw Geralt standing at the end of the driveway, hands folded across his chest and a look of contemplation hardening his face.

He snorted, “What’s so interesting out here?”

“Nothing, just thinking about what I did to deserve all of this.” Geralt shook his head with a grin and walked towards him, planting a small kiss on his cheek on the way inside. 

“All of what?” The move hadn’t affected Jaskier the same way. He was thrilled to have put down roots at all, the emotion expressing itself within his relationship rather than the visuals of his life. To have and to hold someone he thought to be home could make a basement seem like a resort. “The garbage we’ve been ignoring or the dishes I don’t want to do?” 

“Both.” He fell onto the couch, grateful for the air conditioning streaming from the ceiling. Geralt extended an arm, making room for Jaskier to sit with him. “I was just thinking about everything we’ve done together, what we’ve made for ourselves.” Jaskier looked up at him, using his lap as a pillow rather than his chest. “I’m proud of us.” He felt something bump against his head, assuming it was just a wallet and thinking nothing of it.

“I’m proud of us too. Thank fuck we don’t live in that shithole anymore.” 

“I can second that, but we do have to give the shithole some credit.” Geralt laughed to himself, “Remember when we first met?” 

Jaskier thought for a moment, looking off into the distance hoping to conjure the memory; it came in fragments, “I do, but I want to hear you tell it to me.” In truth he was too drunk to remember the end and didn’t want to embarrass himself. The version of Jaskier left in the city was not one he wanted to be associated with. 

Geralt cleared his throat, absentmindedly playing with Jaskier’s hair, “Well, it was two years ago that you walked into the pub. And I remember that only because the first thing you told everyone about was how it had to be the hottest summer on record, which it wasn’t. I knew from then on you’d be an interesting fellow and I was proven quite right after the first couple of drinks you had. I will say, I’ve never seen anyone drink as well as you did then. After you loosened up a bit, you walked over to me and asked if I came there often.” 

He cringed at his own words, groaning, “No I didn’t, you’re making that up!”  


“I’m not I swear!” He held up his hands defensively before continuing, “At first I ignored you, as I was trained to do, but you just wouldn’t go away. We ended up talking for hours, and by we I mean you, about whatever you could to hold my attention. I think you ended up asking for my phone number actually.” 

“And you said no?” 

“I’m going to be quite honest darling, if I knew you were this charming I probably would have quit on the spot.” It was a joke, the truth known full well between them both. “How I lived so long without you I have no idea.” His heartbeat was in his throat, staring down at the pocket his lover had made into a pillow. 

Jaskier nodded his head, feeling the objects in Geralt’s pockets against the back of his skull, “I have no idea how you did either, I’m a catch.” He caught the look of worry in Geralt’s eyes and frowned, “Have you seen a ghost, or do you disagree?” 

He became wary of Jaskier moving any more, shifting to get him off so he could stand up, “I’m fine, the keys- uh, poked me is all.” It was a bad lie and he knew it. 

“The keys are in your other pocket.” Jaskier felt around for Geralt’s other leg, tracing the outline of his keys and wallet indented in the denim. He moved his head again, eyes turning to slits, “What is that?” 

“What is what?”

“Stop stalling, I know that repeating bullshit you do when you don’t want to talk.”

Geralt sighed, head dropping back in exasperation. He stood up and started to pace around the room, a crack of thunder opening the sky into a downpour. “This isn’t how it was supposed to go.” He was pissed off at himself for being careless. “I had a whole day planned-“ 

“The fuck are you talking about?” Jaskier walked towards him, interrupting the annoyed pacing. “Are we going somewhere?” His eyes lit up, hands clamped together, “Vacation?” 

“We are now.” Geralt grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him outside, the rain falling down in sheets just beyond the porch. “Here or there?” He pointed to the lawn, now being drenched in rain and the patch of flowers they planted together. 

Jaskier gestured weakly to the flowers, also being drenched in rain, “I mean the flowers I- hey!” Geralt wasted no time dragging them onto the lawn, posing Jaskier in front of him with firm arms. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

Geralt combed his hair behind his ears and sighed, the nerves boiling inside his fingertips and drying his throat. He coughed, “Do you remember the day we planted these flowers?” He didn’t wait for an answer, “It was the first thing we did when we bought this house to make it home. It was the first thing we did here together and I remember you cried when you stood back and looked at it.” Jaskier smiled at the memory, still overwhelmingly confused. “The second thing we did was eat breakfast. It was before we had a table or even chairs, so we ate eggs on the ground at eight in the morning before the movers came with our stuff.” 

“And you were so excited for a new stove that you somehow burned every one.” He could still taste the charred bits in his mouth. 

Geralt shook the rain from his face, wiping the water from under Jaskier’s eyes and continued, “The last thing we did that day was sleep on our mattress on the living room floor because the bedroom door was jammed and you wouldn’t let me break it open. And I realized waking up that next morning, looking at you in this home we’ve given ourselves that I don’t want to spend another morning without you.” He fished around in his pocket, pulling the small black box that had been burning a hole in his jeans for over a month. Hidden in a closed fist, he pressed on, “I don’t think I _could _spend another morning without you. You’ve shown me so many things I didn’t think were possible, I don’t want to lose them. I don’t want to lose you.”__

__Jaskier looked him up and down, “Is everything alright?” He pressed the back of his hand to the white hair slicked across Geralt’s forehead._ _

__“More then alright.” He got down on one knee, the mud seeping into his jeans. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted and more, hopefully I can do the same for you. Jaskier, will you marry me?” The small box opened with a click, unveiling a simple silver band with a black diamond imbedded in the center. It didn’t sparkle as Geralt would’ve liked it to in the sunshine, though the lightning did just fine._ _

__He couldn’t tell if he was crying or if it was just the rain, Jaskier throwing both hands over his mouth and joining Geralt on the grass on both knees. He cupped his cheeks, pulling Geralt in for a kiss, the rain falling over them as though they were one. “Yes.” He mumbled with a whisper as he caught his breath. Pulling away from Geralt’s lips and smiling as he never had before, “It was always you and it will only be you. A thousand times yes.”_ _

__The box remained open, velvet starting to get as soaked as their clothes. They both remembered the ring at the same time, laughing with trembling voices and rushing with shaky hands to get it on Jaskier’s finger. He held his arm out, staring at it with tears in his eyes._ _

__Geralt intertwined their fingers, admiring the way the ring looked in its rightful place, “So now what?”_ _

__“We get out of this rain so I’m not still sick on my wedding day.” Jaskier tried to stand, the excitement going straight to his knees and practically fainting onto the flowers. Geralt took that as an opportunity, scooping his betrothed into his arms, carrying him under the threshold of their home; which he forgot to do in the hustle and bustle of moving in._ _

__The first thing Geralt did the next morning was call Renfri, who promptly shrieked into the receiver and demanded to be the Maid of Honor._ _

__“Is there anyone else? I mean if he has a sister or something I totally-“_ _

__Geralt chuckled, watching Jaskier play with Roach in the next room, his heart warm, “Not unless you count a dog as competition.”_ _

__She closed her eyes and mouthed ‘yes’, “I would be honored to be your Maid of Honor, your Best Man, your witness and whatever else you need me to be.” She spoke again in a rush after a small pause, “If you’ll have me.”_ _

__He looked to Jaskier, taking the phone away from his ear, speaking so she’d intentionally hear them, “I don’t know babe, do we really need one?”_ _

__“I think Roach could handle most of what we need.”_ _

__“I’m not so sure about that, we haven’t taught her to object.” Geralt cocked an eyebrow. “So I suppose there’s that.”_ _

__Jaskier scowled at him, “That is true, so I think maybe she could be of some assistance.” He laughed at the cruel childishness and shouted, “We’d love to have you!”_ _

__He brought the phone back, smiling, “We’d be honored, technically we wouldn’t even be together without you.”_ _

__“And don’t you forget it!” She planned on holding this truth over his head for as long as possible._ _

__With no family to reach out to or knack for party planning skills, the wedding was nothing more than an arch in their backyard and scouring for an ordained anyone for the formality. Eventually settling on the organizer of Jaskier’s AA meetings, Katherine, who to him was more like a mother than a mentor. Renfri baked cupcakes as a wedding gift rather than an elaborate tiered masterpiece; Geralt wouldn’t accept anything else._ _

__How the wedding looked and the nitty gritty became completely obsolete to them. It didn’t matter if it rained or shined, if they wore formal suits or bathing suits. Though they did wear the traditional regalia (per Jaskier’s request to see Geralt in something other than jeans).  
What mattered the most was that it was happening at all, the unity they had formed over a lucky year holding them closely for life. _ _

__The day finally came on a late Sunday afternoon at the tail end of summer. The air smelled of dew and the color green, flowers coming into the peak of their season and trees blowing in the warm air. There wouldn’t be another day like this one for a long time. They donned plain shirts, Geralt in black and Jaskier in baby blue. There had been an entire argument over him wearing white._ _

__“I’m not pinning myself as the bride in this relationship Geralt!” He was pacing back in force in the bedroom, Geralt laying in bed with a growing headache. “That defeats the whole purpose of us being _men _getting married!”___ _

____He sighed, “I didn’t mean to say that you were the girl, just that I’m not wearing white and I figured one of us would.”_ _ _ _

____“And why wouldn’t you?” Jaskier stopped and crossed his arms, foot tapping to contain his irritation._ _ _ _

____“It makes my chest look weird.”_ _ _ _

____“Oh for FUCKS sake-“_ _ _ _

____They set up an aisle in the backyard, leading from the back gate to the oak tree dropping a leaf here and there to replace a flower girl. Just beyond, Roach rolled in the grass, barking occasionally at the the slightest of sounds. Renfri stood behind Geralt, brushing stray hairs from his shoulder, keeping tight hold on to the rings and whispering words of encouragement in his ear. Surprisingly, he was nervous despite being one of four in attendance. The rest of his life was to stand at the end of this white runner and forever was a long time._ _ _ _

____He couldn’t wait._ _ _ _

____The humming came first, the melodic sound Geralt so loved to hear as he rose from naps and heard in passing during the day. Then the gate clicked open, Jaskier slipping in front of the white painted wood, bundle of roses in hand and the largest grin on his face. He paused, struck by the sight of Geralt and felt his eyes begin to grow misty. But he pulled himself together, determined to make it down the aisle without tears. Unlike his fiancée, who pulled a tissue from his pant pocket and dabbed at the corners of his eyes when Jaskier stood in front of him, leaving the roses on the lawn for Roach to tear through._ _ _ _

____The ceremony began, the pair barely listening to the formalities, too caught up in the sweat they shared on their palms and staring into eachother’s eyes. Katherine coughed, gathering their attention, “Your vows boys, it’s time for vows.” She said in a whisper, Renfri giggling silently.  
____

___“Oh right, almost forgot about those.” Geralt freed one of his hands to dig in his pockets for his vows, Jaskier quickly getting to the punch first._ _ _

____He pulled the folded piece of paper from his pocket, his hands shaking, “There’s so many things that I could say about you-“ Jaskier paused, reading over his vows with a scowl on his face. He crumbled up the paper and threw it on the floor. “I’ve never been very good at writing, so I’m just going to talk from this thing.” He poked his chest. “I love you. I love everything about you so much I think it’s honestly made me physically ill. For most of my life I walked around with a hole in my chest. I spent so long wandering around, hoping to find something, anything to fill this void, that I lost myself. Everyone here knows that better than I could explain. Then I met you. The first person in my life to give me a chance beyond first impressions and show me what it means to feel safe, to feel loved. What you’ve given me, I can never repay with words and gestures. I devote myself to you, I vow to accept every aspect of you from not liking orange juice to loving trash television. I want to grow and experience whatever the rest of life has to offer, with you by my side.” He squeezed Geralt’s hands, “You’re my once in a lifetime.”_ _ _ _

____Renfri wiped her eyes and patted Geralt’s back, hearing the sniffles he was trying to hide. He smirked, “I don’t know how I’m going to top that.” Jaskier opened his mouth to go for the joke. “Don’t you dare.”_ _ _ _

____“Sorry.”_ _ _ _

____Geralt brushed his hair behind his ears and ripped his vows in half, “I um, it’s always been really hard for me to talk about how I feel.” He found his lips to be trembling, “I wasn’t raised in a place very accepting of that kind of thing and I often got beat up or yelled at if I cried. So as I got older, I spoke as little as possible and pulled away from the world as much as I could. Until you came along,” He smiled, taking Jaskier’s hands. “I watched you just be yourself, not caring really how others perceived you and even to this day it’s one of my favorite things about you. Along with your generosity, compassion, sensitivity, humor and that look in your eyes when you’re doing what you love. I was a fool to deny myself true happiness in the form of you for so long and I’ll never make that mistake again. That’s why I asked you to marry me, you complete me in a way I didn’t think possible. I vow to love and protect you today, tomorrow and everyday until the world ends; maybe ever after that, if you can still stand me by then.”_ _ _ _

____Jaskier wiped the tears from his face, for once at a loss for words._ _ _ _

____It was time for the rings, Renfri being careful not to lose them amongst the grass and feeling the overwhelming love engulfing the backyard as the sun settled itself on the horizon. She winked at them both; proud of Geralt like an older sister, overjoyed in Jaskier’s evolution._ _ _ _

____They slipped the rings on eachother’s fingers along with the formality, lips itching for the moment they’d been waiting for weeks to get to._ _ _ _

____Katherine closed the book, looking between them with a warm smile on her face, “By the power vested in me by the courts of Rivia, I now pronounce you husband and husband.”_ _ _ _

____Geralt wasted no time, taking Jaskier by the back, cupping a hand around his cheek and lowering him into a sweeping dip. Renfri clapped and Roach barked, nipping at Jaskier’s ankles with rose petals stuck in her fur. They laughed into eachother’s mouth, coming back to reality. Geralt lifted up Roach, getting a few licks to the face and looking at the family he had now. He started to cry, though with light tears of joy rather than oppressive sadness._ _ _ _

____Jaskier kissed him once more on the cheek, abandoning the aisle to get a view on the cupcakes. Katherine pat him on the shoulder, watching Renfri shoo Jaskier away from the table.“He’s a good man, one of the most dedicated members I’ve ever seen in my career.” She pet Roach, “Promise me you’ll treat him well.”_ _ _ _

____“I promise.” He nodded his head, walking with her to the table only to get a chocolate cupcake slammed into his mouth. “Is this how you’re supposed to eat these?” Geralt picked up another one to return the favor, Jaskier laughing hysterically and flicking frosting back at him like a child. “How do they taste?”_ _ _ _

____“Actually quite good,” He shouted to Renfri across the lawn, “Have you ever considered being a baker?” Jaskier took a dollop of frosting from Geralt’s cheek, tasting it with a shit-eating grin, “You’re very talented.”_ _ _ _

____Soon after the sun began to set, leaving them alone with the remnants of what was hours of work in the kitchen and a dog hair covered aisle. Crickets chirped all around them, fireflies moving around like catchable stars._ _ _ _

____Jaskier rolled up his sleeves, attempting to pick up the long white runner. He paused, watching Geralt throw his hair into a bun and clean chocolate frosting off of the grass so Roach wouldn’t eat it. The smallest, seemingly forgettable action reminding him for the hundredth time that day why he loved him. He left the runner half finished, extending a hand, “Would you join me in a dance?”_ _ _ _

____“Oh you know I can’t-“_ _ _ _

____“You’re going to.” Jaskier wrapped his arms around his neck and started to sway, forming a beat in his head and gently allowing Geralt in on it. “This won’t kill you will it?”_ _ _ _

____Geralt placed his hands on Jaskier’s hips, the smallest bit of frosting making it’s way on a belt loop. “It just might.” He blew a firefly away from his face, mosquitoes eating his ankles._ _ _ _

____“In sickness and in health until death does us part, so let’s find out.”_ _ _ _

____He raised an eyebrow, spinning Jaskier around and pulling him close to his chest, “You’re not trying to get out of this early are you?”_ _ _ _

____“You seem to be doing alright, so my plan is foiled for another day.” He kissed Geralt on the cheek, “Can I dip you? What’s that face for?”_ _ _ _

____Geralt scoffed, “Not to be rude, but I’m a bit bigger than you are sweetheart” He allowed himself to be spun around, fully bracing to be dropped on the dirt. “I won’t be mad if you drop me.”_ _ _ _

____To his surprise, and Jaskier’s now inflated ego, he was caught with little to no effort on his husbands part; retuning to an upright position and back into the swing of the rhythm in no time. “Why do you looks so surprised?” He flexed, “You know what’s going on under here, you’ve legitimately seen me naked.”_ _ _ _

____“I just thought-“_ _ _ _

____He was interrupted with a kiss, Jaskier cupping the back of his head with both hands, “You think too much.” He pressed their foreheads together, “I know it’s upsetting that I’m the strongest one in the family, I’m sure we can get through it together.”_ _ _ _

____Geralt picked him up, a look of feigned gratitude on his face as he tossed him over his shoulder and supported him with one arm, ignoring the grunts of protest, “Thank you so much for the support.” He kicked the gate open, “I have no idea what I would do with out you.” The front door opened slowly, Jaskier’s feet serving as a battering ram. “Hm, how can I give my thanks?” He tossed him down on the bed, standing over him with his hands on his hips, “What am I to do with you?” He spoke aloud finally after months of thinking it._ _ _ _

____“Love me until the world ends.”_ _ _ _

____“I suppose that’s one thing, though there’s a few different ways I can show it.”_ _ _ _

____Jaskier sat up on his knees, pulling Geralt closer by the sleeves of his shirt, “Like feeding the dog?”_ _ _ _

____He groaned, bordering more on a whine, “You really know how to set the mood don’t you?” He gave Jaskier a quick kiss and turned on his heels, Roach sliding across the floor from the next room to follow close behind._ _ _ _

____Jaskier watched from the bed, the loves of his life being so close and for once never far away. He had finally shed the cocoon of his early self, becoming another person he had yet to fully recognize. His eyes were bright again, full of a life yet to be, rather than one on the brink of collapse. Each breath had meaning, every step a purpose. Most leading him back to Geralt, the white blur of anonymity now in focus only for him.  
He appeared in the doorway, looking at Jaskier sideways, eyes almost glowing in the dark, “What’re you thinking about?” Geralt laid down next to him, kicking his shoes off with thoughts moving to his stomach rather than what he’d originally intended._ _ _ _

____“Dinner.” He lied, keeping the warm feeling in his chest all for himself, hearing the low rumble. Jaskier looked over to Geralt, caressing his face with the back of his hand, “Do we want wedding pizza or wedding-“_ _ _ _

____Geralt groaned, interrupting him. “Just say you want pizza.” He kissed the knuckles next to his lips and got up, “It’s never anything else.”_ _ _ _

____“I was actually going to say Italian to make it special.”_ _ _ _

____“Pizza is Italian.” Geralt leaned back into view, phone pressed to his ear, “I know it’s upsetting that I’m the smart one in the family, I love you anyway.” Jaskier ran into him, fingers tickling his sides and stomach relentlessly, making him drop the phone on the table. “Stop! Stop!” He was breathless, deep laughter shaking the floor on his way down._ _ _ _

____Jaskier stopped eventually, laying down on top of him giggling, “Do you still love me?”_ _ _ _

____“Forever.” Geralt kissed the freckles on his nose, now deeper with the summer sun._ _ _ _

____He smiled, tracing the border of Geralt’s mouth with the tip of a finger, “Your forever is all that I need, Cowboy.”_ _ _ _

____They never got around to ordering the pizza, too wrapped up in eachother to pay anything other than their hands much attention._ _ _ _


End file.
